


amen, amen

by garconrouge



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (neglect), Absent Parents, Also some fluff, Angst and Humor, Artist Grantaire, Big Brother Grantaire, Bisexual Grantaire, Canon Disabled Character, Christianity, Coming Out, Cosette and Éponine are the only ones who know what they're doing, Drunk Grantaire, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Enjolras/Jehan is mostly platonic and one sided, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, Happy Ending, Homelessness, Homophobia, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Enjolras, Oblivious Grantaire, One-Sided Attraction, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Pining Enjolras, Promiscuity, Promiscuous Grantaire, Recreational Drug Use, Religion, Sorry Jehan, Unofficial Dads Enjolras and Grantaire, enjolras makes a series of bad decisions but comes out ok in the end, enjolras's parents suck, i promise this is actually a really lighthearted fic, jehan has a crush on enjolras, oulandish and frankly unnecessary karaoke duets, set in England, they just have BackstoriesTM u kno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-15 07:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 47,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garconrouge/pseuds/garconrouge
Summary: Enjolras has had a crush on Grantaire for five years. And for five years, he's thought about how stupid that is. He knows he has no chance with Grantaire, who spends his days drinking and dating a flurry of women. He isn't even out of the closet yet, and has no real plans to be- until an unexpected encounter with Jehan throws him head first into trouble.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merelydovely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelydovely/gifts).



> "Something about Enjolras having one of those inexplicable crushes one occasionally gets on someone you know is immature/kind of a jerk/not even that cute. Sometimes you just get really invested in wanting someone to like you. Enjolras doesn't know what to do with these feelings. Author's choice how (or if) it resolves!"
> 
> I hope this is on prompt enough!! and i know, its so fucking long. it wasnt supposed to be, but it is :D
> 
> \---This whole thing is unedited because of how long it is. I will edit it soon, but be warned for now that there might be mistakes/typos/accidentally unfinished bits. If you see any, please point them out and I'll fix them!---

There were two hundred and seventy-three tiles on Mrs Bhatti's classroom ceiling. Enjolras knew this well, because he'd counted them many times in the past year and a half. He'd even taken to sitting in the one chair at the back of the room with the best view of almost every tile each time he had detention. Craning his neck to count from two hundred and twenty had started making his neck ache. Still, it was more engaging than copying out textbook information on the five Ks of Sikhism over and over again.

Mrs Bhatti was sitting at her desk, glasses perched precariously close to the tip of her nose, reading over students' homework and humming to herself. She never paid much attention to her detainees, and as such Enjolras usually got away with disregarding any menial task she had set him.

He shouldn't have even been there in the first place. In Enjolras's eyes, he was perfectly within his rights to advocate for beekeeping. It wasn't his fault that Mrs Bhatti was uninformed about how the honey industry benefits the lives of bees, and he planned to write a strongly-worded letter to the headteacher about how she had used her power to silence his voice regarding environmental issues. If we stop keeping bees for their honey they will go extinct, he thought, and then the world will end and it will all be Mrs Bhatti's fault.

Mrs Bhatti taught religious studies, and as such had never really liked Enjolras. The entire subejct was based around opinions, and he had all too many of those that never seemed to align with her own beliefs. While she believed in essential oils, veganism and natural remedies, Enjolras spearheaded vaccinations, animal welfare and the progression of modern medicine.

It had started in boredom. His parents were devout Christians, and spent every Sunday morning at church. When ten-year-old Enjolras had started to ask questions about the validity of their beliefs, he was left at the public library each week instead of being brought along. They would rather have left him behind than deal with reflecting on their own beliefs, it seemed. And so for an hour and a half every Sunday morning, a pile of blonde curls took over the back left corner of the kids section in the library, pouring over whatever he could reach.

He'd started with the same catalogue of books everyone his age was reading- Inkheart, Harry Potter, Artemis Fowl. But he grew bored of them, and started looking elsewhere. It was like striking gold when he found the section housing several philosophical pieces, politically-charged works of both fiction and non-fiction. He begged his parents for a library card and was soon reading under his duvet throughout the night. It was no surprise that by age twelve he could go toe-to-toe with his teachers in any debate. The addition of the internet into his life a year prior only accelerated the development of his opinions.

Enjolras liked facts from well-reputed books and studies. Mrs Bhatti did not.

He was about to restart his examination of the classroom's ceiling when the door shot open with a loud clanging sound. The handle hit a nearby filing cabinet, which fell forward and hit the floor with a thud.

"Ah, sorry," laughed the newcomer, "I didn't mean to open it that hard."

Enjolras took this opportunity to look away from the filing cabinet and see who exactly had caused the mess.

It felt like a punch in the stomach.

The boy was tall, although he could tell they were the same age. He had curls, like Enjolras, although his were as dark as soot. He had freckles, which were something Enjolras had never seen so prominently on anyone but Cosette. The clusters of dark flecks decorated his nose and cheeks so perfectly that he couldn't help but wonder if they'd been placed there on purpose. Enjolras had never believed in intelligent design, but what other explanation was there for the constellations strewn so perfectly across this boy's face?

In his short few years of life, Enjolras had never encountered someone who took the air from his lungs. He'd looked for it in girls, longed for the feeling he'd often heard his best friend describe. Waited for the day he'd know how it felt when she said she looked at the right boy and could feel her insides melt.

This must be it, he thought. He'd never even considered that it might be a boy who would affect him this way. He barely understood what was happening.

"You're late," came the barking voice of Mrs Bhatti, drawing Enjolras away from admiring the boy.

"I am, aren't I? It's just so confusing here, so many corridors-"

"Just sit down." He did so, directly in front of Enjolras. It had to have been an intentional move- he climbed over the fallen filing cabinet to do so. Anyone looking for an easy seat could have sat at the other side of the room.

"I'm going to get the head, to ask what I should do about this," she said, lifting up the filing cabinet, "and whether or not it's worth another after-school detention." And with that, she left the room- leaving Enjolras and the boy, along with the newly dented filing cabinet, alone in the classroom.

He turned around immediately. Enjolras wasn't expecting it, and tried not to look too startled.

"So," the boy said, extending a hand, "I'm Grantaire. What's your name?"

"Enjolras," he choked out, meeting Grantaire's hand to shake it. "I'm here because I like bees."

"Bees? That's a little harsh. I called her Mrs Batty- she didn't like that."

"I mean," he laughed, trying not to be too loud, "you're not wrong. She thinks dietery changes can cure cancer." Enjolras was trying to keep his cool, in an attempt to not make a complete fool of himself.

Grantaire's eyes widened at the revelation. "That's just pure batty."

The laughter subsided into silence after a few seconds, but Grantaire didn't seem happy with that. He leaned back in his chair, head almost resting on Enjolras's table, trying to balance a pencil on the end of his nose. The angle gave Enjolras a great excuse to study the shades of green in his eyes.

"I was kicked out," he said abruptly, after dropping the pencil for what must have been the fourth time.

"What?" Enjolras asked, looking confused.

"Of my last school, I mean. They kicked me out for setting the food tech rooms on fire." The pencil dropped a fifth time. "Flour is surprisingly flammable."

Twelve-year-old Enjolras laughed, completely unknowing that this detention would set the path for the next five years of his life. That even at eighteen, he wouldn't be able to shake the feeling of being punched in the stomach every time the green-eyed boy with soot-coloured curls looked his way.

This was only the beginning.


	2. One

It was like clockwork. At exactly 8pm, every night, Cosette's bedroom light would turn on. It had been this way for several years. Her adoptive father was incredibly overprotective, and often ended up subjecting her to strict rules that were more ridiculous than anything else. Like an 8pm bedtime.

She didn't mind too much any more, but it had been a point of contention throughout her teenage years. It also proved problematic when she started dating, and had to tell her boyfriends that she wasn't allowed out past 8. Enjolras maintained that any guy who would think less of her because of her dad's rules probably wasn't a great guy in the first place.

Enjolras was most of the reason she didn't quite mind having such an early bedtime any more. They'd been next-door neighbours for as long as either of them could remember, and their bedroom windows looked directly into each others'. A terrible architectural decision, Enjolras knew, but one that benefited the both of them.

They'd tried opening the windows and shouting, at first. They'd been no older than six and didn't quite realise that the whole street could hear their conversation- including both Cosette's dad and Enjolras's parents. Enjolras remembers the embarrassment he felt when his mother burst into the room and demanded to know who he'd just been discussing the life cycle of butterflies with. It wasn't exactly confidental information, but realising himself and Cosette weren't the only ones privy to their words made his cheeks burn nevertheless.

They tried their best to be quieter after that, but the presence of the outside world still hindered the conversation. It wasn't until they began to learn to read and write more comprehensively that the idea of writing notes in paper pads came to them. They wasted a lot of paper those first few years, especially after they realised that thick black marker was much easier to read over the distance than erasable pencil.

They saw each other outside of their bedrooms, of course. The two grew incredibly close over the years. They were more akin to siblings than friends- growing up alongside each other, always with the other when they could be. Their blonde curls and striking blue eyes had them mistaken for twins on several occasions. The two delighted in it. It was the best kind of pretend- imagining that they were, in fact, siblings. They were both the only child of their respective families, and it was immensely refreshing to have somebody they could call a sibling.

Their parents didn't get along. Mr Valjean, Cosette's adoptive father, didn't like that Cosette's best friend was a boy. He never did anything to hinder their friendship, but Enjolras could feel the dislike from the man the moment they met. Enjolras's parents didn't mind Cosette, but they showed as clear distaste for Valjean as he did for their son. Enjolras's parents were the archetypal white British Christians, which didn't bode well for a dark-skinned ex-con with no discernible partner and a daughter who he was so clearly not related to by blood.

They had tried to make them get along. Enjolras would write "Cosette and Mr Valjean" on the invitations to his birthday parties, and Cosette would always drag her father along. It never worked, however. He typically spent the whole event sitting in a too-small chair in the corner, tiny plastic cup in-hand and watching his daughter like a hawk. Enjolras's parents would stand at the other end, tutting and muttering about him, even a few times asking Enjolras not to invite him next year. Not that he would have listened. It was likely that Cosette wouldn't even be allowed to attend without Valjean, and thus he continued to invite him.

Despite seeing eachother in the outside world regularly, there was something special about their silent night-time conversations. It felt like a sacred ritual, unloading the burden of the day onto the other every night without fail. They both had phones by now, but neither thought for a second about switching to them. Handwritten notes were all they wanted or needed for this. Now they were both eighteen, it was almost nostalgic in a sense. This tradition and routine that the two of them had shared for so many years was one that felt like it couldn't be broken. Enjolras lost his phone often, anyway. His parents had a habit of siding with his teachers whenever he got into any sort of trouble at school, and now college, which meant he was frequently grounded. The fact that he was now legally an adult didn't seem to bother them.

The only change they'd made in over a decade of writing notes was switching from paper pads to whiteboards. Enjolras had insisted on the change about six years ago, after realising that the amount of paper waste they produced was awful for the environment. Cosette welcomed the change too, as she had always been worried that Valjean would read through her side of the conversation. Enjolras doubted he would, but she was concerned nevertheless. Being able to wipe away their conversations added to the security and confidentiality she felt she needed.

Enjolras and Cosette knew everything about eachother. She had spent endless hours telling him about boys she liked and who she was dating, along with every other detail that came to her mind about her life. He knew her favourite foods, least favourite member of Steps (H, for some reason, even though he was clearly the best), and the specific way she braided her hair when she wanted people to notice her. He tried to be just as open, telling her everything he felt he could in the same vein. She knew who his favourite authors were, the exact words he'd use to describe the current Conservative government (many of them too explicit to ever be aired), and had even seen the tattoo on his hip he'd gotten on a night out with Courfeyrac that he now regrets.

He never meant for her to see that last one- he was changing in his room with the curtains open, oblivious to the fact that Cosette was in her room with the lights off. The conversation that followed after he realized had been incredibly embarrassing, and was possibly one of his least-favourite moments of his life.

There was one thing, however, that he never dreamed of telling Cosette. One truth that he felt could never be told, not to anyone. Jehan, the only person who knew, had coaxed it out of him with alcohol and discussion- a key reason Enjolras no longer drank. Well, that and the tattoo.

He couldn't tell Cosette that he was gay. He couldn't tell Cosette that he was gay and that he was in love with one of their friends. It wasn't even that he felt she'd be unaccepting- Enjolras knew well how Cosette felt on matters like that. She was part of the college's LGBT group, and he had a suspicion that she might be attracted to girls. She'd had an obsession with Jennifer's Body for a while a few years ago, and the Megan Fox poster remained on her wall to this day. He didn't want to assume, though.

He couldn't explain why he didn't want to tell Cosette. He didn't even really know himself- there was just something in his gut that told him he couldn't do it. Cowardice, maybe.

Enjolras's reluctance to reveal his sexuality, combined with the fact that he had been hopelessly enamoured with the same boy for the last five years of his life, had lead to Cosette seeming to believe he was incapable of romantic attraction. She'd teased him about it several times, comparing him to old maids who never marry and spend their days feeding stray cats and writing bitter poetry about men and the world at large.

Writing bitter poetry about men and the world sounded good to Enjolras, but not out of disinterest or disdain for either. Enjolras loved men and the world equally, with the same passion and fervour. The only difference was that he did not allow himself to express his love for one of them.

Being so closeted also made days like this difficult. Days when all Enjolras could think about was the way his curls fell around his green eyes, or how he always seemed to have charcoal smudged somewhere on his body. On more than once occasion Enjolras had seen him pick dried paint from his hair. The smell of turpentine tended to cling to him, which was both slightly unsettling and comforting at the same time. He always tried not to get too lost in the way Grantaire smelled, but it was quite difficult when the scent of artistry was so strong around him.

He was staring off into the distance, eyes half-focused on a hedge he knew he'd fallen into a few years prior. Enjolras hadn't quite noticed that he'd been daydreaming for the past few minutes, and so he jumped when he noticed Cosette waving at him excitedly from her window. He leaned over to grab his whiteboard and marker, trying to refocus on the real world.

 _What's up?_ he wrote, still blinking back the daydream haze. Even in a medium such as this, he kept up his punctuation. It was something Cosette had chided him for for years, arguing that it doesn't really matter when it's just the two of them, but he kept it up nevertheless. He noticed that the Rise Against song he'd been listening to on repeat all evening was still playing. His mum would probably complain about the noise later, but that was an issue for Future Enjolras.

 _he said yes!!!!!_  she displayed back, a beaming smile on her face just to accentuate how great this news was. Enjolras knew who "he" was immediately, of course. Cosette had been focused on the affections of a specific boy for quite some time now, and if he was honest Enjolras had grown quite sick of hearing about Marius Pontmercy. If it weren't for the fact that they shared the same group of friends and were quite well acquainted, he might have made disliking him a hobby. He was a decent guy at the very least. The same couldn't be said for the subject of Enjolras's own affections- but that wasn't something he tended to focus on at home. He enjoyed playing dumb to Grantaire's downfalls until he was forced to face them head-on.

 _I'm happy for you!_  he wrote back, even adding in a little smiley face in the corner of the whiteboard. While he held disdain for how often he had to hear about the boy, Enjolras wouldn't let that affect Cosette's own happiness.

He really was happy for her. With her dad's strict rules, it was a lot harder for Cosette to find someone willing to date her, and Enjolras would much rather she find happiness with the sappy kid who offers him Starbursts when he has nothing else to say than some guy who could treat her like shit. He knew Marius was harmless.

Cosette continued to talk about Marius throughout the night, like she had most nights for the past few months. She told Enjolras about the date he'd agreed to go on, and they planned how to sneak Cosette to her date without her father knowing. They were going to the expensive dessert parlour that had only recently opened up in town, and he tried to pretend like he wasn't jealous. He hadn't had an opportunity to go, but had heard stories about how good their white chocolate crepes tasted. He made a note to take Jehan sometime. That boy had a sweet tooth, even if his thin frame suggested otherwise.

Enjolras was mostly happy to see her talk about Marius all night. There was, however, the unmistakable aching in his heart at how unable he was to reciprocate. He knew the feeling of wanting to talk of nothing other than a boy well. It was very similar to how he felt talking about the poor, the pitfalls of Capitalism, and according to Grantaire, bees. He couldn't even remember where the "Enjolras loves bees" joke came from, but he enjoyed it nevertheless.

He had to tell her one day. He knew that well. But today was not that day.

 


	3. Two

"It's three pounds to pay with card," she said, eyeing him up across the counter. Enjolras rolled his eyes, scanning the small shop for whatever ludicrously expensive items he could add to his total so as not to have to mess around with coins. He hated the arbitrary rule- who does it really hurt if he pays for his £1.50 hot chocolate via Visa Debit? Enjolras knew not to get into this debate now though. He'd tried to strike up the discussion last year, only to be chased out of the college shop with a broom and banned for a week. He grabbed two share bags of chocolate buttons from the nearest shelf and made a face at the cashier as if to say  _'is that better now?'_ before finally being able to pay for his drink. 

At least his friends would be thankful for the free chocolate. It'd probably make studying the Great Gatsby a lot easier if there was sweets involved. 

He was cutting it fine- Lit class had technically started three minutes ago. While college teachers were typically laidback, and the first five or so minutes of every class was usually spent waiting for students to arrive, Enjolras tended to push the boundaries on what was acceptable punctuality-wise.

He entered the classrom quickly, waving a "sorry I'm late, Andy" over his shoulder as he did so. It took him a second to realise that his teacher wasn't actually there yet, and he'd just apologised to nobody. 

"Enjolras!" he heard Courfeyrac cheer, and he approached the table of his friends with a smile on his face. A group of them had all decided to take English Literature together at the end of Year 11, and it had become 'their' class. The only ones missing were Feuilly, Marius, Bahorel, and Combeferre, who had all chosen to take three subjects independant from everyone else. In Combeferre's case, he took combined Literature & Language, which Courfeyrac had once described as "the worst decision ever made by any human being on Earth". Apparently, English Language was an incredibly boring subject when you already speak the English language.

Their group of friends weren't the only people taking the course, of course, but the other clusters of people couldnt help but be overshadowed by the loud, raucous group of boys sitting around the large table at the back.

"I brough snacks!" Enjolras replied, throwing the bags of chocolate onto the table as he took his bag from his back. 

"You are the best human ever," Jehan enthused, tearing a bag open with such fervour that it split and some of the chocolate flew out. "Oops." Everyone laughed as Bossuet got up from his seat and walked to the other side of the table in order to scavenge and eat the fallen chocolate. 

"I'm not kissing you after that, you minger" Joly chided, poking his boyfriend in the side. 

The only one who had stayed silent throughout the chocolate debacle was Grantaire. He was leaning hunched over the desk, a pencil in his hand that had been sharpened so much it barely poked out over the top of his fingers. He was drawing, Enjolras could tell. He was used to coming into class and finding Grantaire in this state,  working ferverishly on his newest art piece. He didn't often let Enjolras see the finished products, but from the works in progress he had caught glimpses of, and the few completed drawings he had shown him, he could tell that all of the effort and concentration Grantaire put into his art paid off.

Grantaire seemed oblivious to the outside world when he would draw. Head bowed, curls falling haphazardly in front of his eyes, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he focused on getting the shading  _just right_. Enjolras didn't think it would be speaking out of place to say that Grantaire looked  _hot_ when he drew. It was as if his passion for art was emanating out and affecting everyone around him. The connection between artist and art was almost tangible when he began to draw. It was impressive as fuck, and one of the reasons Enjolras wasn't sure he'd ever be able to lose the near-six-year-long crush he still couldn't seem to shake. He'd been twelve when he started to fall, and it had all quite genuinely been downhill from there. 

Grantaire had issues. Enjolras wasn't sure whether they were new issues, or if they'd always been there and had only just become apparent within the last couple of years. Regardless, they were there. Grantaire had what could only be described as a bad reputation. When they were younger, it seemed as if Grantaire hadn't the slightest clue that girls existed. That changed suddenly just over two years ago, when he got his first girlfriend. Since then, there had been a rotating door of women in his life who seem to come and go faster than the changing  tides. His friends had watched as he worked his way through a long string of girls, each seemingly more annoying than the last. He never seemed capable of keeping a girl for more than a week. Often, it was his own doing- Enjolras had heard stories of how Grantaire was promiscuous, and slept around. About how he cheated on more of his girlfriends than he didn't. He'd seen his friend on more than one occasion attempt to hit on a girl he'd already dated in the past, usually resulting in being hit or having drinks thrown in his face. Enjolras might have felt bad for him if it wasn't his own fault.

In short, Grantaire was the worst person to be hopelessly in love with. Enjolras had spent many hours beating himself up about how he felt throughout the past few years. He'd even tried to reason with his own heart- lie to himself about how he's  _not even that cute,_  and  _you're blowing it out of proportion, you don't like him that much_ \- only for it all to be ruined the next time Grantaire threw him a shiteating grin that made his stomach do backflips and his lungs tighten. 

He tried to distract himself from Grantaire. Most of the time, that distraction came in the form of Jehan. He told Jehan he was gay under the night sky and the influence of too much sangria. Jehan was draped in a picnic blanket, ginger hair flying behind him in the wind. 

"I know," was all he said in return, pulling the blanket further up so that it now covered his head too, before shuffling to lay his head on Enjolras's thigh. "You don't hide it very well. I see the way you look at him."

Enjolras had been too stunned to speak. He had never thought of himself as an obvious person, especially regarding his affections for Grantaire. He'd felt bad, because there was a twinge of sadness in Jehan's voice.  It was only there for a fleeting second, but it was there nonetheless. 

Jehan had spoken for a long time, filling the silence and letting Enjolras know that he didn't need to explain himself, or reveal anything more. He understood. 

Since that night almost a year ago, Enjolras and Jehan had grown closer. Jehan wasn't somebody he had known much about before, but after he became the sole bearer of his biggest secret, the two began to find themselves much more acquainted than before. One thing he'd noticed since then was that Jehan was incredibly affectionate, and loved nothing more than lying across Enjolras at any given opportunity. 

This was exemplified when Jehan swung his legs up to rest them in Enjolras's lap the moment he sat down at the desk. He'd claimed one whole bag of chocolate for himself, leaving Joly, Bossuet and Courfeyrac to ration the contents of the other bag between the three of them. Enjolras silently rested his arms on Jehan's shins, admiring the glittered canvas shoes he had likely decorated himself.

Andy, the Literature teacher, burst into the door at that moment, carrying a large stack of papers and a travel coffee mug. 

"Sorry I'm late guys, I was having a lengthy discussion with Maggie from the shop as to whether or not my travel mug was the size of one standard coffee cup or two. She wanted to charge me three pounds for a mug full of coffee!"

"At least you'd be able to pay on card," Enjolras piped up, more to himself than anything else. A few people laughed, including Grantaire- which made him happy. He valued any form of positive recognition from Grantaire a lot more than he should have. They were friends, after all. Friends laugh at eachother's jokes. 

Andy began sorting through the papers he'd been carrying on his desk at the front, and some of the other students were engaging him in conversation regarding the papers he was handing back today. Grantaire took this opportunity to slide the piece of paper he'd been silently working on across the table, towards Enjolras. 

Confused, Enjolras lifted an eyebrow at him, and pointed to the paper. He didn't want to misinterpret the situation, but also wanted to see what Grantaire had spent so much time drawing. He was met with a solemn but quick nod, before the black-haired boy looked away and towards Andy, who was starting to hand out their marked essays.

Enjolras took the paper from the table. It didn't seem to be anything particularly special- it was a realistic penguin, with a speech bubble saying "bee-autiful". Sure enough, the penguin was surrounded by several small bees. The drawing didn't make much sense geography-wise, as bees and penguins don't inhabit the same spaces on Earth, but Enjolras appreciated the drawing, and the fact that Grantaire was maintaining the idea that Enjolras was some sort of bee rights advocate. He smiled at the drawing, tucking into the laptop portion of his backpack, where it was the least likely to get creased. He looked back up at Grantaire, but he was still facing away from him. He didn't have any time to question why he would suddenly decide to give Enjolras a piece of the art he so often kept private, because just as he went to open his mouth Andy placed his essay in front of him. 

"You seemed very angry in this piece, Enjolras. Try to reign that in during future essays, it may lead to better argument."

"I wouldn't be so angry if more people would realise how infatuated Nick is with Gatsby. He's largely unconcerned with the female population, and he spends most of the book talking about how incredible Gatsby is-"

"I don't disagree with you," Andy replied, setting a hand reassuringly on his essay, "but if you express anger and frustration on the page, your reader might. Tone is incredibly important, Enjolras." 

Andy moved on to Courfeyrac, and Jehan leaned in towards Enjolras and whispered jokingly " _Don't project."_

"Dick," Enjolras laughed back, shoving him very lightly. Jehan grinned back, flipping him off before accepting his own essay back. They'd each written about a different book, randomly selected from an old conical party hat that Andy kept on the head of the classroom stuffed owl- because clearly what most college Lit classes are missing is a stuffed owl who likes to party. Jehan had pulled out the  _Iliad_ , which made him incredibly happy and Enjolras incredibly jealous, especially when he in turn got  _The Great Gatsby._

Grantaire was still quiet. This wasn't typical of him, and Enjolras was concerned. While Grantaire was known to be quiet and focused while he drew, this wasn't the same atmosphere. He looked almost dismayed, as if he'd lost something or missed out on an opportunity. Enjolras made a note to ask him about it when they were in a better setting. A classroom wasn't the best place to attempt to emotionally bond with your crush.

He'd started eating the chocolate buttons from Joly's pile now, though. At least Enjolras could be helpful in some way. If he couldn't provide emotional support right now, at least he could provide snacks.


	4. Three

"I don't understand why we're going if it's a boring movie." Cosette said, standing behind Enjolras as he looked himself over in his bedroom mirror. 

"Because, although it's a boring movie, it's also a classic movie, and any good film nerd needs to see the classic movies." She'd convinced him to wear a shirt that matched her dress, but he wasn't sure about it. It was ugly and lavender coloured and he felt like the child of a creepily attatched parent. Plus, she wasn't going to be with him- she was more interested in spending the duration of the film with Marius. He wanted to make Cosette happy though, so he sucked it up and wore the shirt.

"Have you seen it before?" 

"Yes," he replied, in a slightly short tone. Enjolras hadn't been expecting that question, but realistically it was one of Cosette's hobbies to pick apart the illogical things he did on a daily basis. 

"And was it boring?" She was tapping her foot now, arms crossed in impatience with him. She wasn't tecnically wrong. When Combeferre had invited them all to the cinema, he was pretty skeptical at first. He'd first watched the film in History a few years ago, and had been on the verge of falling asleep throughout the whole thing. He was older now, however, and realised that the whole reason he'd found it boring in the first place could have been that he was too young to understand it. Enjolras liked cinema- and people who liked cinema loved this movie.

"Yes, but-" he spun on the spot in frustrating, turning to face her. "It's an iconic movie. Critically the best one ever made."

"The Emperor's New Groove is the best film ever made. You cannot stand there and defend Citizen Kane while blaspheming against the good name of Kuzco."

He had to admit that she was right. They'd first watched The Emperor's New Groove together, and the both of them had held an unironic love for it ever since. 

"If we go I'll make you pancakes later," he offered. He could see the reluctance in her eyes when she huffed an "ugh, fine" and took his hand, leading him out of his bedroom- there was very little Cosette wouldn't do for Enjolras's pancakes, but that didn't mean she was happy about it. 

Combeferre and Courfeyrac came to pick them up. Very few of their friendship group knew how to drive, as the historic city they lived in was virtually anti-car- it was much easier to walk most places than it was to drive, and many places couldn't even be accessed by car. This was made especially prominent by the fact that a large majority of their stores and cafés were at the top of the incredibly aptly named Steep Hill, which had barriers at the bottom to prevent cars from even attempting to ascend. The cinema was on the other side of the city away from the hill, however, and was much easier to get to by car. 

Courfeyrac was driving, which didn't comfort Enjolras in the slightest. He always made wild turns and drove just over the speed limit. He seemed to enjoy making his friends fear for their lives. They were driving down a particularly speed bump-laden road when Combeferre's phone pinged.

"It's from Grantaire," he said, adressing the rest of the car, "asking if he can bring a girl."

All four of them groaned in annoyance. Every time Grantaire brought a girl out with them it ended in unnecessary drama and tears. And for Enjolras, it was just painful seeing him with anyone else. He was used to it by now, but that in no way meant that it didn't still sting seeing Grantaire with his arms around somebody else, whispering to them and kissing them the way Enjolras wished he would with him. 

It didn't help that they were girls. A constant stark reminder of the fact that Grantaire was not, and could not be attracted to him. Grantaire had never expressed any sort of interest in men, and Enjolras couldn't see that changing any time soon.

"There's no point telling him no. He'll bring her anyway," Courfeyrac expressed, lifting his hands from the steering wheel momentarily to wave them in the air. It was a wonder he had a license.

"Who do you think it's going to be?" Combeferre asked, turning around to face the two in the backseat.

"I bet it's another blonde," Courfeyrac chirped, leaning forward in his seat to look for oncoming cars.

"Definitely. Short or tall?" Cosette fit in strangely well with Enjolras's friends. When he'd first tried to introduce her to them he was worried she'd feel left out, but she joined in with just as much fervour as anybody else.

"Short. They're always short." Enjolras was amused that was even a question. Grantaire always went for short girls- not that it was easy to be tall in comparison to him. Grantaire more closely resembled a tree than a human some days. 

"Blonde, short, pale skin, blue eyes, the man's got a type," Courfeyrac pulled the handbreak as he continued, "watch out Cosette."

"I'd beat that boys arse if he even thought about coming on to me" Cosette laughed, and Enjolras felt some sort of relief at the confirmation that she wasn't interested in him. He'd never thought there was a possibility that Grantaire could come after Cosette, but it was still reassurring to hear her express distaste at the idea of dating him. 

They clamboured out of Courfeyrac's tiny car together, Cosette getting her shoe stuck on the door frame for a few moments and shooting daggers at Enjolras when he laughed. Feuilly, Marius, Jehan and Bahorel were stood outside the cinema already, hands tucked in coat pockets to ward off the cool winds. 

"How long have you guys been waiting?" Enjolras asked, a little concerned. Jehan's cheeks were flushed red and the four were clearly shivering.

"Not too long, it's just freezing out here." Bahorel replied. He flicked his cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with his foot before huffing, picking it back up again, and putting it in a bin. Enjolras had lectured him for half an hour a few weeks ago about how cigarette butts were the most littered item in the world, and how he should take more care to put them in the bin in future. It seemed to have sunk in.

Cosette wandered over to Marius, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Jehan greeted Enjolras in a similar way, albeit with slightly more humor and less embarrassment from the both of them. Courfeyrac wolf-whistled, and Enjolras dipped Jehan down dramatically as they both laughed. 

He was just setting him back on his feet when the worst sound hit his ears. A shriek so loud and high-pitched that it resembled a distressed cat resonated throughout the street, getting closer and closer with each second.

Enjolras looked over to see the source of the ungodly noise- it was Grantaire. Or rather, the girl that Grantaire had brought along with him. She was running towards them, and he felt like Simba's dad watching the wildebeests speed towards him. 

She came to a skidding halt directly in front of Jehan and Enjolras, looking between them both with wild eyes.

"That was cute," she said, still not having introduced herself even slightly.

"Uh, thanks, I guess," Enjolras accepted, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. He still had his hands around Jehan, but they now felt awkward and misplaced.

"Are you two gay?" she asked, in a hushed voice as if it was something scandalous and exciting. Enjolras didn't know what to say. His throat dried up and his lungs felt deprived of air. It was like the horrible, anxiety-riddled cousin of how he felt when Grantaire smiled. He knew that the longer he waited to answer, the more suspicious he'd look, but he just couldn't bring forth words to make his excuses. Thankfully, Jehan had it covered.

"Nope," Jehan smiled. Enjolras could tell that he was having to hold himself back from reacting the way he truly wanted to."We're just really good friends."

Enjolras didn't value Jehan enough sometimes. Without him, he would get stuck in a lot more uncomfortable conversations than he does now. Jehan was always there to save him when weird and awkward things like this happened to him.

Sometimes Enjolras wished he had feelings for Jehan instead. He'd realized over the past few months that it was likely Jehan had some sort of feelings for him, even if he knew they weren't reciprocated. If they were, Enjolras's life would be so much easier. He'd sooner spend his days infatuated with the lanky ginger boy who always smelled like strawberries and actually held interest in him than Grantaire. Jehan was a complicated being, but he wasn't as stress-inducing or painful to lust after as the other. 

A relationship with Jehan would be easy, and sweet. They'd go on dates to drink coffee and watch live poetry readings, picnics in the park and bringing eachother flowers for no reason other than they felt like it. A relationship with Grantaire could never be like that.

Even if the heavens above blessed him with the taller boy's affections, it would be short lived and problematic. Enjolras held no doubt that any time spent with Grantaire would play out just as badly as it had with every one of Grantaire's girlfriends he and his friends had tolerated. Enjolras would be surprised if he lasted longer than a week without being cheated on or forgotten about. He had seen it happen all too often in the past. 

"Let's go inside!" Feuilly announced suddenly, in a completely unsubtle attempt to change the subject and move on from the awkward encounter Jehan and Enjolras had just experienced. The girl grinned sheepishly, and moved back towards Grantaire, who seemed just as sick of her as everybody else did. 

There was a surprising amount of people in the cinema room. Enjolras hadn't thought many people would be interested in watching Citizen Kane now, but it was surprisingly difficult to find enough seats for everybody to sit down. Eventually they had to relent and split into two seperate rows in order to sit in time for the film. Enjolras was sandwiched uncomfortably between Jehan and Grantaire's friend, and her earlier freak-out about the two of them didn't make him feel any better about it. 

He realised over the course of the film that Cosette had been right. Citizen Kane had been playing for almost two hours, and everyone around them seemed to be counting down the seconds until it was over. Everyone except Bahorel, who seemed to be having a great time throwing popcorn at the screen and shouting things like "Nobody cares, Mr Wells!"

Jehan had fallen asleep some time ago, and his head was now resting on Enjolras's shoulder as he snored lightly. Grantaire's friend had migrated further into his chair, and thus away from Enjolras, which was also good news. He didn't know her very well, but her reaction to even the possibility of him and Jehan dating was disconcerting to say the least. 

Cosette was in the row in front, sat between Marius and Joly. Her and Marius seemed to be ignoring the film completely, opting instead to talk amongst themselves. At least somebody was having a good time, he thought. 

Combeferre, the one who had tricked them all into coming along with him, was sat forward in his seat, elbows pressing into his knees as he watched the film. Enjolras wondered whether he actually enjoyed this, or was instead pretending to so that he didn't have to admit that not even he found it interesting. 

The last few minutes of the film dragged on, and everyone pretended to be sad for poor, dead Mr Kane when his sleigh was burned. In reality, they just wanted everything to be over so that they could leave without seeming impolite. 

Stepping out of the theatre room for the first time after sitting in the darkness for so long felt like a drop of water after a year of drought. Suddenly there was light, and modern sounds, and people dressed in clothes that actually looked comfortable. 

Cosette and Marius were walking together, hands clasped and giddy smiles on their faces. Enjolras didn't quite understand how Cosette, who had been so adamant about not wanting to come in the first place, had had such a good time while he suffered. Not even Jehan's presence had made sitting bored for two hours bearable, especially when on his other side sat Grantaire and his now-giggling companion. 

Trying to keep Jehan from falling over from tiredness, he looked over at Cosette and said four words that made her whole day; 

"I owe you pancakes."


	5. Four

He didn't mean to do it. He didn't even really want to do it. There were a thousand excuses and third parties Enjolras could blame his actions on, accuse anyone but himself of ruining his life. But realistically, it was his own fault. 

There were just the right conditions for a perfect storm. Enjolras had been grounded for feeding rats in the garden, meaning he was confined to his room. His mother, too busy deciding whether or not she needed to call pest control, hadn't remembered to confiscate his phone. Grantaire was drunk again, and every two seconds his phone would ping with another new and incomprehensible message from him. His phone was also slightly broken, and wouldn't go on silent no matter how hard he tried. Cosette, reeling from her fourth-or-fifth date with Marius  _he-made-me-a-daisy-chain_ Pontmercy, was nagging Enjolras about whether or not he was interested in anyone, and the common conspiracy she often liked to visit that he was in fact dating numerous girls in secret, without telling anybody.

Enjolras was frustrated, and tired, and honestly would much rather have hidden under his duvet and listened to  _Against Me!_ than deal with anyone's shit. He wanted Cosette to stop bugging him, he wanted Grantaire to shut up so he could sleep, and he wanted his mum to stop being so anti-rat, but none of that was going to happen any time soon because apparently the world despised him. 

This all lead to him grabbing his whiteboard and telling Cosette  _Fine. You win. I do like someone._

He could see her excitement across the dimly lit space between their houses. He'd never spoken about his love life or own romantic feelings in general with Cosette. He'd never wanted to, especially since it was a road that undoubtedly leaded to her accidentally forcing him out of the closet and him having to embarrass himself by revealing the details of a half-decade long crush on somebody who was supposed to be just a friend. 

 _:o who is she????_ was all he got back, and Enjolras regretted his whole life instantly. There was absolutely no way he could even describe him to Cosette, let alone actually telling her who he was. Any small hints as to the identity of Enjolras's crush would lead to Cosette wanting to dig up every sordid detail.

_I'm not saying. Sorry._

She looked unimpressed at that, and in mere seconds flashed back nothing more than a very large  _=(,_ accompanied by a thumbs down from her free hand. 

Another message from Grantaire came in at this point. He'd drawn a very crude penguin on a bar napkin, and the message was nothing more than a string of letters:  _dio oyu tresd ti?_

He replied with simply  _Drink water_ , in the same vein of all of his other messages from the past hour or so. He cared deeply about Grantaire, drunk or not, but it was difficult to respond adequately when he was being sent words he couldn't read. 

Grantaire's reply echoed Cosette- a single sad face emoji, followed by another penguin. He seemed to have a thing for penguins tonight. And sending Enjolras several blurry selfies in a row with no accompanying message. Selfies that Enjolras would never admit in his life to saving to his camera roll. 

He looked back up at Cosette, who had propped her whiteboard against the window in an effort to not have to hold it while he was distracted. 

_do I know her?_

Enjolras wasn't quite sure how to answer that. On one hand, he wanted to shut down every line of questioning she would present to him. At the same time, however, he would be lying if he said no. 'Yes' wasn't quite the right answer though, because Grantaire wasn't a her. But he couldn't correct  _that_  without outing himself. He decided on a simple  _Kind of._

_how do i kind of know her_

_It's rather complicated._

He could tell she wasn't happy with that answer, but he refused to elaborate. There was no way he was doing this tonight, especially not when he knew he would hate himself if he did when morning came. 

Another text from Grantaire came through- it was a picture of a glass of water, with no message.  _Don't forget to take ibuprofen when you get home_  he reminded him, sighing as he realised Grantaire would likely forget by the time he stumbled home. 

The picture made him want water himself though, and so he put his phone in his pocket, signaled to Cosette that he was stepping out, and left the room. If Grantaire could refrain from messaging him for just a few minutes he could probably slip down and back up unnoticed. 

Enjolras's home was unnecessarily big. For some reason, his parents had decided when they were buying it that they definitely needed five bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, despite the fact that only the three of them lived there. It wasn't even like they owned any animals to fill up the extra space- his mother thought dogs were dirty creatures, and his father hated the idea of anything that wasn't human walking across his magnolia carpets. 

The only part of his house outside his bedroom that he enjoyed were the pictures on the walls. His parents liked to overcompensate their familial troubles with artwork that implied they were a perfect family. However, due to the fact that they only had one child, and there were only so many iterations of the same family portraits three nigh unchanging people can pose for, most of the pictures were of him and Cosette growing up and doing different activities. It was nice to walk down a hallway and see twenty different versions of him and his best friend making sandcastles, getting ice cream in their hair and slowly growing taller. 

It must be weird, he thought, for visitors to the house who didn't know who Cosette was to see these pictures. The two looked like twins in every one- same blonde hair and blue eyes, same pale skin and crooked teeth. It amused him that it was possible some of their house guests thought Cosette was a child they had somehow lost yet never spoke about or appeared to morn. It was quite fitting for the attitudes of his parents. 

To his distaste, his mother was in the kitchen. She watched from the corner of her eye as Enjolras retrieved a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the sink. 

"What did they say about the rats?" he asked, leaning his foot on the cupboard below the sink. 

"Apparently because they're outside there's nothing they can do about it. But you're going to stop feeding them," she demanded, "and take your foot down from there, you'll scuff the wood."

"Yes ma'am" he muttered into his glass. 

"Enjolras." She glared at him, and he dipped his head and apologised like he knew he was supposed to. It was times like this when he was jealous of people like Courfeyrac, whose parents were undeniably cool and didn't care about freshly painted cupboard doors. They had too many children to care- Courfeyrac was the oldest of what could almost be described as a tribe of children. His mother was the type who baked brownies when his friends came over, whereas Enjolras's was the type who asked that everyone take their shoes off and not sit on the good furniture. She had even once asked Combeferre to attend church with them sans Enjolras when he stayed over on a Saturday night. 

He took a swig from the glass before refilling it again and rushing off to his room. The longer Enjolras spent around his mother, the more uncomfortable he became. He wasn't even sure where his father was- it was getting late but he didn't seem to be in the house. He was thankful for that. Enjolras's father had always made him deeply uncomfortable, purely because he treated him less as his child and more as an annoyance that should be dealt with as quickly as possible. Sometimes he felt he'd rather be Valjean's child than his parents'- it could surely only be better to be overly attatched to your child than not attatched at all. 

When he came back into his room, Cosette's lights were off and her curtains were shut. Valjean had likely come to check up on her and forced her to actually go to bed. 

Flopping down onto his bed and retrieving his phone from his pocket, he realised that Grantaire had tried video calling him three times. It seemed that his phone had finally decided it wanted to be silent now, however, and so the calls hadn't made his phone ring. He was debating whether or not to call him back when it started to ring a fourth time, and he hit 'answer' on impulse.

Immediately he was met by loud, thumping club music and the blurry images of a large throng of people. Of course Grantaire would try to FaceTime him from a club. He was talking, Enjolras could tell, but everything else was so loud that it was hard to differentiate his voice from the background noise. Grantaire was walking, and from the shakiness of the camera it didn't seem like he was very stable. Enjolras just watched in confusion as Grantaire pushed through the crowd and the strobe lights shot colour throughout the pixelated room. Wherever he was, the phone reception was terrible.

Eventually, Grantaire made it outside. Enjolras knew he was outside, because the loud music became very quiet in a matter of seconds, and the previously purple screen was turned a deep shade of dark blue. The screen flipped to show the camera changing, and soon enough Grantaire's face was onscreen, shiny forehead and all. 

"Heeeey!" he cheered, smiling widely. He had to be many drinks past drunk by now. 

"Hello," Enjolras laughed, trying not to grin too wide at seeing Grantaire's happy face. His insides felt like they were melting. Luckily for Enjolras, he didn't have to put too much effort into concealing how he affected him tonight. Grantaire had a terrible memory when he was drunk. 

Grantaire didn't seem to think he needed to explain why he was video calling Enjolras from a club at 10 at night. He was looking at his phone screen, smiling and giggling to himself, the occasional drunken hiccup slipping through.

"Did you call me to stare at me, or was there another reason?" Enjolras joked. While he was calmer now, he was still as tired as he had been earlier and sleep was one of his top priorities right now- something he couldn't achieve with Grantaire being so ridiculously cute on the other end of his phone. 

"Well there was a... fuck- there was a girl but I... lost her." He was holding a beer in one hand, and took a sip from it halfway through his sentence. The only issue was that he missed his mouth by a few centimetres, and ended up spilling it all over his shirt.

"You lost her? Did she start making out with another guy?" That had happened to him a few times- some of the girls Grantaire dated cared as little about him as he did them, and this often resulted in him being ditched halfway through the night for somebody who was more willing to buy girls drinks.

"No I mean like... I  _lost_  her! I don't know where she went..." It was at this point that Enjolras realised he likely wasn't going to get Grantaire off the line for a while. He set his phone up in the stand on his bedside table and paused his camera while he replied, kicking off his jeans to ensure he didn't fall asleep in them.  

"How do you lose a whole woman?" He could only hope that she'd left of her own accord, and wouldn't soon be found dead in a ditch somewhere near Waddington. He unpaused his camera when he came back, laying down in bed. If he was going to listen to Grantaire's drunken stories, he was going to do so comfortably.

"Hey at least I didn't lose a... a half a woman"

Enjolras couldn't argue with that logic.


	6. Five

Enjolras wasn't a bar person, for several reasons. Bars were typically noisy, sticky places full of people high on liquid confidence, creating one of the least-welcoming atmospheres he'd ever encountered. Especially because he had stopped getting drunk after the incident with Jehan.

This is why when Courfeyrac and Grantaire begged him, wide eyed, to come with them to a bar, he initially refused. 

"I'm not going," he stated adamantly, arms crossed and looking directly at Courfeyrac. If he focused on Grantaire instead, he knew that he would crumble.

"Come on, Enjolras, have some fun for once in your life!"

"You guys go without me all the time, why do you suddenly want me to come?"

"Well first of all," Grantaire began. Enjolras wished he wouldn't speak, because that meant typical unspoken social laws wouldn't demand he look at him, "we want everyone to come. And secondly it's been way too long since I've seen you actually have fun!"

"Getting drunk and singing karaoke songs isn't fun." That was a lie. It was incredibly fun, especially because the last time Courfeyrac and Grantaire sang a duet together it was  _I Can Show You The World_ from  _Aladdin_ , and Courfeyrac had bought Jasmine's outfit just for the occasion. The two of them had looked at him in that unmistakable  _cut-the-crap_ gaze he so often got from Cosette. If it had been Courfeyrac alone, he probably wouldn't have bent. But one look from Grantaire and he'd do anything. 

"Fine," he sighed, "I'll come."

It was those two words that Enjolras deeply regretted the moment he stepped into the bar. It was so dim inside he had to squint to see, and the stench of alcohol overpowered everything else in the room. He made a face as the warm air from inside hit him, and Jehan, who was by his side, laughed.

"You're not used to this?" he asked, a smirk on his face. Jehan enjoyed having the upper hand.

"Not really, no. Not my forte."

"And what is your forte?"

"Bees," came a voice from a few meters away. Enjolras's stomach did somersaults at the first hint of Grantaire's voice from a few feet away. 

"Of course. Bees over bars" he joked back, greeting Grantaire with a smile. It would be easy to assume that Enjolras would get sick of the bee jokes at some point, but he never did. Despite having completely forgotten why they began in the first place, each one made him feel special- like even if he didn't love him back, at the very least Grantaire cared enough about him to keep up a specific joke.

He had arrived alone that night, which wasn't surprising given the location. Enjolras had never seen Grantaire bring a girl to a bar, but he always saw him leave with one. If Grantaire was a predator, bars were his hunting grounds.

He didn't like thinking of Grantaire that way. He wasn't some savage beast and women were not prey to be feasted upon. Grantaire wasn't predatory. He didn't cause harm to women. But he was cruel. His nasty habit lead to cruelty and capriciousness and a weak outlook on commitment. 

Enjolras always found himself focusing on Grantaire's negative aspects, because that was all he seemed to be. He yearned to find the positive ones. 

Courfeyrac was already here. He was stood next to the stage, shouting something to the barstaff that Enjolras couldn't hear. From the looks of it, he wanted them to let him use the karaoke machine. This would be an eventful night. 

Combeferre was sitting at a table nearby, holding a glass of Sprite and watching Courfeyrac with a smirk on his face. Combeferre didn't drink, but it seemed to be less out of choice and more necessity. Him and Courfeyrac always drove together, and Courfeyrac couldn't be trusted as a designated driver. The few times it was his responsibility, he'd forgotten and drank, making the both of them need to call a taxi to get home. Enjolras waved and the three went to join him. 

"He wants to sing _Part of Your World_ , but they won't let him after last time," Combeferre explained as Jehan and Enjolras took the two chairs beside him, Grantaire veering towards the bar first as Jehan shouted over asking for a cocktail. 

"Last time?" Enjolras got the feeling he missed a lot of things that happened on these nights out. He felt sorry for Joly and Marius, who were still seventeen and couldn't come even if they wanted to.

"He got drunk and started singing Circle of Life from  _The Lion King,_ which would have been completely find had he not used someone's baby as Simba."

Jehan choked beside Enjolras, who found himself breaking down into a similar fit of giggles. He was far from surprised that Courf had taken it upon himself to reenact that particular movie scene.

Grantaire came back to the table with a tray full of drinks. Another Sprite for Combeferre, who was barely through his current one, a mimosa for Jehan, whiskey for Grantaire- and a glass bottle of cherry coke. He handed the drinks around, and placed the bottle in front of Enjolras.

"Cherry Coke," he stated, looking down at the drink.

"Yeah, that's what you drank all night last time, when you said you stopped drinking- is it wrong? I can go back and change it-"

"No, it's perfect... thank you." 

He couldn't explain why a simple glass of Cherry Coke had made him falter so badly. Grantaire was right, the last time he came out with them was only recently after he'd stopped drinking. He'd stuck to Cherry Coke throughout the night, and Combeferre had made him buy coconut water on his way home so he wouldn't throw up. It was months ago now and the fact that Grantaire even cared enough to remember made him giddy. It was the only time he'd been out without drinking and he would've easily been forgiven for completely forgetting.

Like the bee jokes, it made him feel special. Like Grantaire gave enough of a shit about him to store this mostly useless information. 

Courfeyrac seemed to have won his argument with the bar staff, and the intro music began to play. Grantaire, ever supportive, shouted out in time " _I DON'T SEE HOW A WORLD THAT MAKES SUCH WONDERFUL THINGS COULD BE BAD!",_ and the patrons laughed as Courfeyrac began to sing. 

He did not sing alone for long. The first verse was barely halfway done when Jehan and Grantaire joined in, slowly joined by Enjolras and Combeferre, and then other patrons from around the bar.  Feuilly, Bahorel and Bossuet made their entrance halfway through the song, at which point they also joined in, storming the stage and acting as Courfeyrac's backup singers. It was ridiculous and Feuilly always sang a little too loud, and Enjolras had forgotten just how fun his friends were after a drink or three. 

The night quickly turned into the Courfeyrac Karaoke Special, with him acting as host for the night despite not actually working there. A few others came up to sing, including a rather overweight man who was insitent on singing a quite vulgar song about a cartoon bear. 

Courfeyrac and Grantaire sang Under Pressure, wearing matching-but-inacccurate curly wigs and doing their best impressions of Bowie and Freddie Mercury. There wasn't much point in Grantaire wearing the wig, as his real hair was almost as long and just as curly, but he did nevertheless.  Their duets were always the highlight of a night. 

Enjolras could see Jehan getting restless. He knew what he was going to ask, and quietly hoped that he wouldn't. Enjolras was reluctant to sing at the best of times, let alone sober in a room full of strangers. They'd been out for hours at this point though, and Jehan was several cocktails past drunk. Enjolras didn't think he had the heart to refuse him if he asked. Sulky drunk Jehan was worse than a sad puppy.  

It was just as a troupe of girls finished their rendition of a Sugababes song and handed the microphone back to Courfeyrac that Jehan turned to him, a hopeful look in his eyes. Enjolras thought he might as well buy his coffin now, because he was going to die of embarrassment before the night was over.

"Sing with me?" Jehan asked, putting his hands on Enjolras's knees and beaming up at him. There was no way he could say no. And that is how he found himself being dragged over to Courfeyrac, thinking about how good his life had been up to this point and how it wasn't so bad for it to end this way. 

Courfeyrac chose the song, a shiteating grin on his face as he put the disk in the player and handed the both of them mics. Enjolras's throat felt like he'd been swallowing sand. There were water bottles beside the computer, and he grabbed one and took a swig. It didn't help much.

He could have killed Courfeyrac when the karaoke machine displayed the song title -  _(I've Had) The Time of My Life._

He flipped the switch on the mic and started singing.

" _Now I've had the time of my life..."_  his nerves were clearly evident in his voice. Enjolras was thankful that this was at the very least a song he knew by heart, and so he could shut his eyes and pretend nobody was watching him. Jehan took his hand, giving it a supportive squeeze as he came in at the end of the intro, voice ridiculously high. The beat picked up, and Enjolras felt a wave of confidence brush through him that he didn't have before. He opened his eyes, turning towards Jehan and smiling. The two sang together, Enjolras trying to focus on Jehan and ignore the crowd watching and cheering.

It was uncomfortably intimate, their hands clasped and bodies oddly close together as they sang a love song older than the both of them. If this had been anyone other than Jehan, Enjolras wouldn't have been able to deal with it. It was one thing to jokingly flirt with his friends, but genuine public displays of affection to men like this that were so obviously non-platonic frightened him. He was glad that Jehan made him feel so comfortable, like it was okay to act this way and not be afraid of it. Jehan was the only person who made him feel like he might be able to come out one day. 

At that thought, and the beginning of the saxaphone solo, he broke eye contact momentarily to look for Grantaire. He wasn't sure whether he'd rather him pay attention or not. Either option seemed like a one way ticket to humiliation. When he spotted him, elbow leant on the bar and his head tipped to the side as he talked to a blonde-haired girl, he knew he'd lost him for the night. Once Grantaire set his sights on 'winning' a girl, there wasn't much anyone could do to set him off his path. Enjolras looked back to Jehan, who was smiling comfortingly as the solo ended and they began to sing again.

When the beat kicked back in, they started dancing. Cheesy, energetic, hands-still-clasped bounces back and forth without ever really moving anywhere. From the outside, they more than likely looked completely ridiculous. But everyone was drunk, the bar was swelteringly hot, the crowd were cheering, and Enjolras felt dizzy and intoxicated despite being sober. They made their way through the last chorus with so much energy and fervour that Enjolras began to wonder why he was even anxious in the first place. 

They got to the last "and I owe it all to you" with huge grins on their faces, breathing heavily and giddy, in a daze as the bar patrons cheered and applauded. It felt like a dream, and everything in the background seemed to blur and fade out as Enjolras placed his hand on the side of Jehan's face, leaned in, and kissed him.

For a few seconds, he felt ethereal.

Until there was a shout, and a crash, and he broke away to see Grantaire lying on the floor with blood running down his face.


	7. Six

Enjolras dropped Jehan's hand, stumbling from the stage and towards Grantaire, who was cradling his head in his hands. There was a man standing over him, leering down at him threateningly. Enjolras watched in horror as he dragged Grantaire up by the collar of his shirt and punched him square in the face. The others were jumping up now, weaving through the crowd of people to get to Grantaire and pull the man off of him. Bahorel stood between the two, pushing the man back and glaring at him. 

Enjolras finally made his way to Grantaire, pulling him away from the man. There was blood rushing from his head, and his nose was crooked in a way that definitely meant it was broken. His shirt was wet too, which didn't seem to have an obvious cause. Grantaire put his arm around Enjolras's shoulders, and he lead him out of the bar and into the empty beer garden. 

The cool outside air hit them suddenly, and Enjolras was glad he'd kept his jumper tied around his waist. He sat Grantaire down on the stone steps, and tried to get a better look at his injuries.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, taking Grantaire's face in his hands. He had a nasty cut on his scalp above his temple, where all the blood was coming from. His nose did indeed seem broken, and was starting to bruise. There was also what seemed to be a black eye forming.

"I was hitting on this girl," he said, which was never a good way for Grantaire to begin a story, "apparently we had a thing before. Which I don't remember. She got upset and threw her drink at me. Then this guy came over to defend her and I told him to back off. Turns out, he's her boyfriend and didn't like that very much. So he broke his beer bottle over my head," he pointed to the gash on his head, "and then, well you saw him punch me in the face."

"The fuck did you do that was so shitty the guy decked you?" 

"It's me. What didn't I do." Enjolras didn't want to agree with him there, but he was right. If Grantaire didn't even remember the girl, there's a good chance he treated her pretty badly. "God, it's fucking cold."

Without even thinking, Enjolras untied his jumper from around his waist, wrapping it around Grantaire's shoulders. "Here," he said, "just try not to get blood on it."

At this point, Combeferre came outside with a damp rag, a bucket of ice, and a glass of water. 

"Here," he said, handing the rag over to Grantaire and setting the water and bucket down by his feet, "courtesy of possibly the angriest barmaid in the world."

"Does she want me to leave?" Grantaire grumbled, trying to clean the blood off of his face but doing a terrible job of it.

"No. The other guy was kicked out, but because you didn't do any of the actual fighting you can stay." 

"Yeah, I was just on the recieving end," he laughed. Combeferre huffed a laugh in reply, smiling and walking back inside. 

Enjolras turned to Grantaire, taking the rag from him and turning his head towards him.

"You're awful at this," he muttered, dabbing away the blood covering the side of his face.

"It's not like I can see what I'm doing, is it?" Grantaire joked back, hissing as Enjolras tried to clean the skin around his eye that was quickly bruising. 

"He's done a complete number on you." Grantaire didn't reply, and he worked in silence for a while before continuing, "You can't keep this up."

"What do you mean?"

"Going through girls like you do. It's not good for you..." he trailed off at the end, hesitating before adding on what he really wanted to say, "I hate seeing you injured."

"I could be doing worse things with my time."

"Like what?" Enjolras laughed. Grantaire spent his time stringing along girls, drinking himself to death, and not much else. 

Grantaire smirked, eyeing Enjolras up and down. 

"There's a lot you don't know about me, y'know."

Somehow, he found that hard to believe, but he decided to entertain him for tonight. The man was bleeding, after all.

Enjolras had cleaned his face by now, and turned the rag inside out. He filled it with ice from the bucket, and handed it to Grantaire. "Hold that on your face, it'll do... something. You'll have to go to A&E for that nose, though."

Grantaire cursed under his breath. "Éponine's gonna kill me," he said, which was probably true. Enjolras hadn't met Éponine many times, but she intimidated him like hell. The first time they had met,  she'd given him a seventeen minute rant on the importance of not leaving laundry until the last minute because he mentioned his jumper not being dry enough to wear.

She'd stopped coming to college when she turned eighteen, which he thought was a shame. He knew there must have been a good reason, though. Éponine was smart, and wouldn't have thrown her education away on a whim. Grantaire seemed to be the only person who saw her now. 

They didn't go back inside for the rest of the night. Combeferre and Bahorel came to sit outside too, and the four of them talked for what felt like hours. After a while, Combeferre decided that he should take Grantaire to A&E, seeing as he was the only one with a car. He called Courfeyrac and they left through the gate in the beer garden, avoiding going back inside the club and facing the eyes of the remaining patrons. Enjolras left too, calling a taxi and making his way home. 

The taxi driver tried to make small talk with him, but Enjolras wasn't in the right headspace to speak to him, and he got the message after his first few questions were ignored. Enjolras leaned against the window like he was in a music video, and started thinking about the ridiculous night he'd had. He wasn't sure whether to count it as an good or bad night overall. One one hand, it had gone pretty great for the first few hours. He'd even had fun singing onstage- but he also had to watch Grantaire's face get beaten in. And  _Jehan-_ Enjolras felt awful, he'd kissed him and ran away without a word to trail after Grantaire. He hadn't even spoken to him since.

He decided the best thing to do would be to send him a text now to apologise.  _Hey,_  he started, hoping he didn't sound like an asshole.  _I'm sorry for disappearing so suddenly. Can we talk later?_

He didn't get a repy before the taxi reached his house. The driver stopped, and turned to face him. Enjolras handed him the money quickly, rushing to get inside. He hoped Cosette would be awake, but it was unlikely considering it was so early. 

His mum was waiting for him in the kitchen. She was sat at the table, holding a newspaper and scowling. 

"You're home late," she said, placing the newspaper down and looking up at him.

"Yeah it was a... weird night." He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water and waiting to see if she had more to say.

"Hm? What happened?" 

"A lot. Grantaire got beat up, for one." 

"Oh," was all she said in reply, nodding slowly before returning to her paper. Enjolras's mother had never liked Grantaire, and she hadn't been shy of being vocal of it. The fact that they'd met in detention had never quite left her mind. 

Enjolras left the room with a mumbled goodbye, rushing to his room and collapsing on his bed the moment he reached it. 

Cosette's light was off and her curtains drawn. She was asleep, and he was alone for the first time all night. In the silence, what had actually happened slowly began to dawn on him. He'd kissed a boy.

He'd kissed Jehan.

In front of most of his friends. 

Enjolras was well and truly screwed. He wasn't sure how he could possibly explain it away without outing himself. He didn't think anyone would believe him if he tried to claim that he was perfectly straight, but just happened to soberly kiss his close male friend for a perfectly rational reason.  

It was over. He'd outed himself. He couldn't recover from this. 

What a fucking idiot. 

He could feel his throat closing up, and tears welling in his eyes. What could he do? It felt like his world was collapsing around his ears. He'd have to go back to college on Monday, and he had no idea how he was going to face his friends. They'd all been watching, they had to have seen him kiss Jehan. It wasn't something they were likely to forget or just brush off, regardless of how many drinks they's had. And Combeferre, fuck- Combeferre was sober. There was no chance he'd forget. 

He was panicking, and at this point couldn't think properly. He grabbed his phone and went to the window, calling Cosette with shaking hands. He was crying 

He must have looked creepy, staring at her bedroom window and waiting for any signs of life in her room. The phone kept on ringing, and he thought she wasn't going to answer. Enjolras was just about to hang up when the light turned on, her curtains were pulled back, and she answered the phone.

"Enjolras? What is it, I was asleep." He could see that she was still half-asleep, eyes heavy and hair a mess. He tried to reply, but all that came out was a weak, choked sob. Her eyes shot open, and he could see the concern hit her face like a truck. They hardly ever called eachother while they were at home- she knew this had to be something big. "Enjolras? What's wrong?" 

"Cosette-" his voice sounded strangled. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew this was a bad idea. He could hang up now and pretend nothing happened, but he knew she would find out one way or another. He might as well be the one to tell her himself. "Cosette... I'm gay."

She was silent for a few seconds, leaving Enjolras to overthink and start panicking even more. He went to take it back and apologise, before she cut him off abruptly.

"Honey. I know."

That wasn't what he was expecting. He hung up, not knowing what to say in response. How did she know? He thought he'd been so good at keeping it to himself. He collapsed on the floor under his window, slumped against the wall and began to cry even harder. The night had started out so well, and become a complete trainwreck.

His back was starting to hurt by the time he heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. It hadn't occurred to him that she knew where the spare key to his house was, and wouldn't let him escape from the conversation that easily. There was a knock on his door.

"Go away," he grumbled, shifting slightly against the wall and wiping tears from his eyes. He was too busy re-evaluating every conversation him and Cosette had shared for the past eighteen years to pick apart where he might have gone wrong. She didn't care, and came in anyway, closing the door quietly behind her. They both knew her leaving her house in the early hours of the morning was a risk, especially to sneak over to a boy's house. If they were caught by either of their parents they'd be in huge trouble. 

"Oh, Enjolras," she sighed, seeing him crumpled against the wall. She came over and sat beside him, resting her hand on his knee supportively. "It's okay."

He fell into her arms, and she held him against her tightly, hushing him and whispering comforting words.

"I didn't want anyone to know." She didn't reply, just hummed and held him. Cosette always seemed to know just how to help Enjolras. She never tried to talk him out of his emotions, or cheer him up by distracting him and pretending he wasn't upset. He wasn't sure what he'd do without her. When he'd calmed down a bit, a thought struck him suddenly. "I have to tell my parents."


	8. Seven

Enjolras was sitting alone in the college cafe, sitting sideways on a sofa with his feet up. He'd come to college a half hour early, and was waiting for Jehan to arrive. It had been two days since they kissed, and they'd decided it would be better for the both of them if they spoke in person. Speaking before college started gave them privacy, and also meant they didn't have to wait all day to air what they wanted to say. 

He was halfway through his hot chocolate when he saw Jehan round the corner. He was wearing a block colour jumper, one sleeve red and the other yellow, with a black main body. Jehan's dress sense was always eccentric and brilliant. Enjolras was jealous of how he always seemed to make the ugliest clothes work together and look  _good._

He reached Enjolras and, without saying anything, lifted up his legs, sat beneath them, and placed them back down. 

"Hey," Enjolras said, greeting the lanky boy with a smile.  "You okay?"

"Bloody cold," he replied, pulling his jumper sleeves down and taking Enjolras's hot chocolate from his hands. He didn't protest.

"I just wanted to start by saying I'm sorry," Enjolras prefaced, ready to launch into full grovelling mode to make sure Jehan didn't hate him. 

Jehan was halfway through a sip of the hot chocolate. He swallowed, rested the paper cup on his knee, and said with a wave of his free hand, "don't be."

"What do you mean?" Enjolras asked, confused. He was so sure he'd upset Jehan and ruined whatever odd friendship the two shared. "I kissed you and then ran straight off to baby Grantaire."

"I'd have been more worried if you hadn't." He was looking at Enjolras solemnly, dark green eyes staring straight into his soul. "You're so stupidly in love with him. I don't want to get in the way of that." 

Enjolras was silent for a moment, before he couldn't help but ask a question that had weighed on his mind for some time. "How did you know? You said you saw the way I look at him, but that can't be it... nobody else seems to know."

"Maybe I was the only one who paid close enough attention," he replied. He'd started idly fiddling with the laces on Enjolras's trainers.

"Ouch," Enjolras laughed, mocking offense.

"That's not what I meant, dickhead." 

"What did you mean then?" Enjolras still didn't fully understand the dynamic between him and Jehan. He always felt like there was something he was hiding from him, beneath the comforting and affectionate surface.

"I like you. Honestly I'm surprised you're this oblivious, I'm not a subtle man." Enjolras could physically feel puzzle pieces falling into place. "I've had a crush on you for a long time, Enjolras. And while I was busy gazing lovingly at you, I couldn't help but notice you doing the same to him." 

"Jehan, I'm-" 

"It's fine," he interrupted. "Seriously, it is. I'm a big boy. You don't feel that way for me and that's fine. I want you to be happy more than anything, Enjolras, and you'd be happy with him."

"I'm not so sure I would..." he trailed off, still trying to piece together what he'd just been told. It made complete sense, but Enjolras could be unbelievably slow sometimes. 

"Come off it. You're made for each other." 

"You deserve someone great, you know that?" he said, tilting his head and smiling at Jehan. "You deserve someone incredible, who you love and loves you back and isn't an oblivious fuck like me." Jehan replied with a simple smile. The noise that meant they only had 30 seconds to get to class began to play. Enjolras reached over and pressed a kiss to the side of Jehan's head, and said "you're brilliant" before grabbing his bag and making his way to class. He had Law with Combeferre and Bahorel, something he was dreading deeply. 

When he got to class, neither of the other two were there yet. This wasn't a big surprise, as Bahorel usually got held up deciding which flavour of crisps he wanted for a mid-Law snack, and Combeferre's bus took a weirdly long route to college and he usually turned up a few minutes late. 

It was Bahorel who was first to arrive, clutching a bag of Walkers Max Paprika crisps and nothing else.

"Enjolras!" he cheered as he made his way into the room, causing some of the other students to turn around in annoyance. It was first thing on a Monday morning, and he starts shouting before class has even begun.

"Hey Bahorel," he greeted, raising an eyebrow at his emptyhandedness, "where's your bag?" 

His face dropped. "My bag? Oh, fuck-"

"It's okay, you can just borrow a pen from me. I'm sure Ferre has spare paper, too."

He thumped down into his seat, a grumpy look on his face at the sudden realisation that he'd brought nothing with him. Enjolras eyed him anxiously. He was the first of his friends bar Jehan that he'd seen today, and he still didn't know how they would react or treat him because of the kiss. Bahorel didn't seem to be acting any differently, however. Enjolras surmised that he had probably been too drunk to remember. He did throw himself between Grantaire and a large angry man, after all.

Combeferre entered the room soon after, in a much more quiet entrance than Bahorel's. He approached the small table the three of them had claimed in silence, and put his bag down on the table with a smile. Bahorel eyed his bag in envy. 

Enjolras held his breath, waiting for the inevitable comment or remark from Combeferre. He'd been sober, he must remember the kiss, it had to be coming. There was no way he hadn't noticed or didn't remember.

He waited, and waited. For a remark that never came.

Combeferre just took his seat, made small talk, and begrudgingly lent Bahorel paper for the fourth time this month. Enjolras couldn't quite believe it. He was on high alert, anxious and confused and not really sure what was happening. He felt like they were playing some sort of prank on him, pretending not to know so that he'd bring it up and they could torment him.

Or maybe they weren't mentioning it because they wanted to pretend it didn't happen. Maybe they thought it was sick, or disgusting, and were refraining from bringing it up because they didn't want to argue with him about it, or address that their close friend could like something like that. 

Enjolras didn't say anything about it. He just smiled, laughed along with their jokes, and pretended he wasn't having a life-changing internal conflict. 

He spent the whole day that way. Everybody seemed to be ignoring the fact that he'd very publicly kissed a man in front of them all, sober. 

Maybe they'd thought it was part of the performance, and that was why. Maybe they simply hadn't interpreted the kiss in the way Enjolras was so paranoidly thinking they had.

But why would they think that way? Grantaire and Courfeyrac had done the flirty, camp duets to death but had never finished one off with a snog. Had they, Enjolras would definitely not have interpreted it as part of a stage routine. That would be ridiculous. 

None of it made any sense. He felt like everyone was mocking him in such a subtle way that he couldn't even see it.

The only person who seemed different was Grantaire. He had a Disney Princess plaster stuck over his nose, and his eye was purple and slightly swollen. He seemed upset, and answered monosyllabically whenever Enjolras talked to him. He didn't blame him much, though. Enjolras didn't think he'd be up to chat much if he was walking around in public so obviously battered. While college was a much better environment than school had been, it still wasn't the best place to show such glaring weakness.

Enjolras made it home exhausted from being so anxious all day. He still couldn't quite piece together just why everyone had acted so  _normal_ all day. In his mind, he had done something so striking and shocking that it was unthinkable that not one person brought it up. It felt like they'd all made some secret pact to pretend like it never happened. 

He spent the hours at home in his room, stressing over whether or not he should tell his parents he's gay. When he brought it up to Cosette, she talked out the pros and cons with him. They'd decided that the cons ( _being hated by his parents, possibly being kicked out, having to listen to endless religious lectures etc)_  distinctly outweighed the pros ( _not feeling like a liar any more)._  He'd agreed to wait a while, but he was growing restless now. He'd told Cosette, and the world hadn't ended. She still loved him and cared about him and wanted to be his friend. His friends had found out and... well, he still had no idea what was happening with them, but at the very least they hadn't said anything negative.

He still hadn't reached a conclusion before nighttime fell. He was terrified of telling them, but at the very same time all he wanted to do now his friends knew was tell everybody on Earth that he was gay. It was a very strange feeling- before, all he'd wanted was to hide who he was. Now it felt like he'd hacked through his restraints and was finally free and able to tell the world who he was.

 He was pacing his bedroom floor when he impulsively took out his phone, and called the only person whose voice he wanted to hear right now- Grantaire.

The phone rung for a few seconds, before the line picked up with a click and a grumbled "Whassup?" came down the line. 

"Grantaire, are you drunk?" Enjolras asked, checking the clock, "It's only 7pm!"

"You sound like Éponine on a social day," he moaned, voice straining in such a way that told Enjolras he'd just sat up. "What's up?"

"A social day? Forget it- I just... I'm not sure whether I should do something that could potentially be a very stupid idea."

"In my experience," Grantaire began, words slurred slightly, "stupid ideas are the best ideas. Except for when they include fire and Vaporub. You only do that once." 

"Noted," Enjolras laughed, wondering what the fuck he was talking about. Drunk Grantaire never made much sense. "This thing though... it could fuck up my whole life, R. I'm just really not sure if it's a good idea."

"Do... do you  _want_  to do it?" was all he asked, before hiccuping down the phoneline.

"Yeah. I do. I'm just so fucking scared." 

"Then do it. Don't be a wimp. You're cool as fuck dude, you got this-  _ohfuckIspiltmyscrewdriver_."

There was a series of curses and what sounded like a child shouting from the other end of the phone. Enjolras had no idea what Grantaire got up to in his spare time. He laughed, thanked him for the inebriated pep talk, and hung up. As if on cue, his mum shouted him for dinner. 

He had to do this. He took a deep breath, mentally prepared himself, and left the room. 

The walk to the kitchen was possibly the most nervous yet simultaneously confident he had ever been. He was still terrified, but was now solidified with a newfound confidence he only could have acquired from Grantaire telling him to do something stupid. 

He reached the kitchen, turned the corner, and didn't waste much time at all. He stood at the head of the kitchen, waited for the attention of his parents, and said "Mum, Dad, I'm gay." 

They were silent. Enjolras just stood there, frozen in place and breathing heavily. He could feel the anxiety bubbling in his stomach as they just stared at him, blank-faced. Like they didn't get some great joke he was telling. 

"Go to your room," his mother said after a while, face cold and voice monotone. 

"But Mum, I-"

"Do as I said, Enjolras! Go to your room and leave your phone on the table. You're grounded." His mum shouting made his stomach drop. She didn't yell at him often, and when she did he knew he was in deep shit. 

"But my food-"

"Leave it. And go." 

He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he dropped his phone on the table and walked back to his room. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew he'd fuck everything up. He couldn't even remember why he'd wanted to tell them in the first place, or what had posessed him to think it might even slightly be a good idea.

He chose to blame Grantaire.


	9. Eight

Enjolras had his head in his hands. His night had gone horribly. He'd been sent to his room, and his mother had pushed a chair up against the door to ensure he didn't leave it. She hadn't done that since he was ten and broke the window of her Porsche with an Action Man figure. He had no food, either, so he spent the night dealing with hunger pangs, alone. Cosette was on a date with Marius, and he didn't see her return before he fell asleep. He couldn't help but resent Marius for getting in the way- his night would have been a little less unbearable had Cosette been there to help him through it. 

She was here now, though. In the college dinner hall, her hand resting on Enjolras's arm, rubbing soothing circles into it as he stressed over his now-ruined home life. They were the only two with a free period in this block, and it gave them some semblance of privacy in which to talk.

"I don't understand," he said from behind his hands. Cosette reached up and moved one to hear him better. "Why did they just send me upstairs. I mean, if they have a problem with it, why not just yell at me about it? Why just dismiss me?"

"Maybe she just wanted some time to think everything through," she suggested, giving him her best  _I'm trying to comfort you_  eyes. 

"No. She was mad. If she just wanted to think she wouldn't have taken my phone, or boarded up my door."

"God I hate you mother," Cosette rushed. "I'm sorry, I know she's your mum, and that's rude, but she can be such a cunt."

Normally, a remark like that would have upset Enjolras. He didn't like his parents very much, but at the end of the day, they were still his parents. He loved them, even if he didn't like them.

But on this specific day, after what his mother had done to him, he agreed with her. 

He wasn't sure if it was possible for him to love somebody who could treat him that way.

"They wouldn't even speak to me this morning," he admitted, rubbing one eye. This whole situation was exhausting him.  "They just sat there and... didn't even look at me. I tried to speak to them and got nothing back. It's so fucking isolating, Cosette. And because they've taken my phone it's like- I have  _no one_ at home now. Not even the slightest human interaction."

He was interrupted by somebody from the row of seats behind him getting up. 

"I'll be right back," they said, and to Enjolras's horror he looked up and saw Grantaire walking away now, determination in each stride.

"What just... how long was he listening in for?" 

"I have no idea," Cosette answered, "I had no idea he was even there. Isn't he supposed to have-"

"Art, yeah. He has Art in this block. What the fuck is he doing in here..."

"Skipping, obvoiously," she retorted. She'd bought a tray of chips a few minutes ago and had barely touched it, but chose to do so now in order to throw one at Enjolras's face.

"Hey!" he shouted, shooting up in his seat, brows furrowed. "That's assault!"

"There's no salt on them, actually," she grinned. Cosette was ridiculous, but at least she put a smile on Enjolras's face.

Grantaire's version of "be right back" must have been different from Enjolras's. He was gone for so long that he began to question whether or not it really had been Grantaire, and that he had even been talking to him.

He reappeared over an hour later. He'd missed at least fifteen minutes of Lit class by the time he stumbled through the door, apologies streaming from his lips and carrying a plastic bag. 

"Nice of you to make an appearance, Grantaire," Andy sighed, moving towards the computer to mark him late on the register. 

"Sorry, Andy, I needed to do something," he huffed, making his way to his seat opposite Enjolras. The hum of the classroom picked back up, and everyone at the table leaned in to see what Grantaire could possibly have skipped class to get. Bossuet grabbed the bag, and Enjolras could see the panic in Grantaire's eyes as he scrambled to get it back.

"What's in the bag, R?" Joly asked, looking up from his sketch of a lung. 

"It's for Enjolras," Grantaire explained, and he suddenly felt his stomach drop as the bag was passed to him.

"What is it...?" he asked hesitantly. The last time Grantaire had handed him a nondescript plastic bag, there had been a dead sparrow in it. 

"Just open it!" Courfeyrac said in excitement, and so he did. He pulled out a black box, which looked strangely like a-

"No way..." Jehan gasped, and Enjolras felt the same way.

It was an iPhone. 

It wasn't a very new iPhone, by any length of the imagination, but it was an iPhone nonetheless.

"Grantaire-"

"I heard you talking about your parents taking your phone. That's a shitty thing to do, and it's fun calling you when I'm drunk. I'm not gonna let them take that away from me."

"But these cost money-"

"Eighteen pounds a month, and I stuck twenty five quid credit on it. Hardly going to break the bank, is it?" 

Enjolras didn't know what to say.  

Nobody had ever done something so kind or selfless for him before. He had no way of paying Grantaire back, and didn't know where the money came from in the first place. He was completely speechless. 

"Just- thank you," he said, unable to fathom much else. "Thank you so fucking much."

"It's no problem," Grantaire replied, winking at Enjolras and turning around to listen as Andy began to speak to the class at large. The others at the table stared at each other and Enjolras, wide eyed, wondering what the hell had just happened. Grantaire wasn't usually sociable or chatty in Lit class, usually choosing instead to doodle insulting portraits of authors or rewriting famous quotes to turn them into sexual innuendo. This was unseen territory. 

"So  _that_  is what he did when he said he'd be right back?" Cosette asked hours later, examining the phone closely. Enjolras's parents were out, which had given her the availability to sneak over.

"Yeah. I don't even know why he'd do that for me, I just- I don't understand it." 

"That boy makes no sense at the best of times," she told him. Cosette and Grantaire had never gotten along well. They seemed to like each other at the core of everything, but Cosette held a lot of disdain for the way Grantaire treated women.

The phone began to ring, and Enjolras was amused to see that Grantaire had already programmed his number into the contact list. He answered, and moved to sit at the opposite end of his room so as not to disturb Cosette too much. She had brought her photography homework to his house on Valjean's orders, and was currently sticking various pieces of coursework into an A3 scrapbok.

"Hello?"

"Ah, so it does work then," Grantaire greeted, audibly amused by the whole situation.

"Yes, it does. And I still don't think I deserve it-"

"It's yours. If you didn't deserve it I wouldn't have given you it. Don't try and tell me what to do with my money." 

It was difficult for Enjolras to argue with that. It was Grantaire's choice how he spent his money, after all. He could try all he wanted to refuse the gift, but Grantaire was stubborn and Enjolras knew well that this was not a fight he was likely to win. 

"I'm just curious," Grantaire began again, and Enjolras had a feeling he wasn't going to like the rest of this sentence, "why are your parents so mad at you? When I heard you talking it was almost like you'd committed a cardinal sin."

Fuck. 

Enjolras couldn't easily explain the situation to Grantaire. He wasn't even sure if Grantaire knew he'd kissed Jehan, or if he had been too busy getting punched in the face to notice. 

"I just- I told them something they really weren't happy with," was what he settled on telling him. It was accurate, but not quite specific enough that Grantaire would be able to figure out what had really happened. 

"Was it the stupid thing you called me about?" Grantaire sounded almost sorrowful- like he felt as if he was to blame for what had happened to Enjolras.

"Uh, yeah... it was."

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't. Don't be sorry," Enjolras interrupted. "It was my own decision to tell them. Just because I called you for support before I did it, doesn't mean it's even slightly your fault."

"I told you to do it, though."

"I would have done it regardless. I just wanted somebody to tell me to." Enjolras really didn't want Grantaire to blame himself. He'd blamed him to begin with, and it ended in nothing but him realising how fucking dumb it was to blame anyone but himself.

"What was it though," Grantaire asked, a laugh carried on his voice, "did you crush one of her designer garden gnomes again? Bring a beehive into the house? Or, or, fuck, did you get someone pregnant?"

"No!" Enjolras shouted, laughing along now. "No, definitely not that. It's... not something I'm ready to talk about yet. Is that okay?"

Grantaire sighed on the other end of the phone, and Enjolras could almost hear the smile on his face. "Of course that's okay. I've gotta go now, Éponine's bugging me to help her clean. I'm here if you want to tell me what's going on, though."

"Yeah, of course." Enjolras beamed, keeping the phone to his hear long after the two had said their goodbyes and Grantaire had hung up. He was staring off into the distance, a pathetic grin on his face. He'd forgotten Cosette was even there.

"It's him, isn't it?" she asked, staring at him confidently from over her sketchbook.

"What's him?" Enjolras asked, suddenly snapping out of the trance the phone call had put him in.

"He's who you've got a crush on."

Shit. 

Enjolras seemed to have conveniently forgotten that Cosette had a brain. It never really registered with him that the combination of him telling her he had a crush on somebody and him telling her he was gay in the space of a few short days would lead to Cosette coming to the  _(correct)_ conclusion that the person he had a crush on was, in fact, male.

"Yes," Enjolras sighed, finally admitting to it. There was no point even trying to deflect now. He was trapped, and she knew. There was no way he'd be able to make it out of this conversation without telling her. 

It felt weird, openly admitting to somebody that he had feelings for Grantaire. He'd never even had to confirm it to Jehan- he just  _knew,_ and Enjolras had never found himself having to actually speak about it in such explicit terms.

"This all makes so much sense now!" she enthused, waving her hands in the air dramatically. "How long have you liked him? Don't tell me you've been into him this whole time I swear to God, Enjolras."

"Uh..." he struggled, not sure how exactly to reply

"You have been, you dick!" she gasped. "You know he likes you back, right?" Those words made Enjolras freeze. 

"What?" He didn't see what she was talking about- Grantaire drank and slept with a string of women. These were definitive, established facts. He couldn't even begin to imagine how she could interpret this as any kind of affection for Enjolras.

"Oh, come off it. It's  _so_ obvious. He's head over heels for you. I knew that even before you told me you're gay."  _You never mentioned it,_  he wanted to say. Did Cosette not think this information important enough to share with him beforehand?

"I've never seen him look twice at a guy. He's always too busy chasing girls." He just couldn't believe that it would ever be possible for Grantaire to like him. All evidence he had ever witnessed pointed to that scenario never even being a possibility.

"Maybe there's a reason for that," she asserted, closing her sketchbook and leaning forward, towards Enjolras.

"Or maybe he's just straight."

"Enjolras, he bought you a  _phone._ "

"We're friends. I'd buy my friend a phone." Enjolras was fairly certain that buying an old, cheap phone was not an indicator of romantic feelings. He just knew Enjolras needed help and provided it.

"You've never bought me a phone." 

She did have a point.


	10. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: religious themes, homophobia, church used as conversion therapy
> 
> sorry

The worst day of Enjolras's life was a Sunday, and began at exactly 7am, with his mother shaking him and telling him to wake up. Bleary-eyed, he looked around his room to see his mother, dressed in full Sunday best, holding a pile of clothes, arms extended to give them to him. He accepted the clothes like he was likely supposed to, and then realised- it was a suit. 

"You're going to come to church with us today, Enjolras," she said, voice flat and formal. "If you come, you can have your phone back."

It wouldn't be too bad, he'd thought. It was only a church service. Enjolras had sat through countless ones before he'd started being dropped off at the library instead. They'd always been boring and tedious, but never anything more. One more eight years after the last couldn't hurt much. 

It was the first time his mother had spoken to him in almost a week. 

She left the room swiftly, closing the door behind her. Enjolras quickly changed into the suit. It wasn't one he recognised, and the fit was slightly too big. He realised she must have bought it specifically for this occasion. He wasn't sure whether that thought made him feel happy or sick.

He left the phone Grantaire bought him under his mattress. It would be too dangerous to take with him, but he didn't want to just leave it out in the open. It was too important for him to lose.

He came downstairs slowly, wide eyed and examining every tiny detail closely. He hadn't seen his parents on a Sunday morning in almost a decade. 

There was fresh jam toast on the kitchen table, with his phone and a mug of tea sitting next to it. It was so eerily pleasant and kind. After the near-traumatic week Enjolras had experienced at the hands of his parent's rejection, he felt like he was in the middle of a psychological horror film. He half-expected the Other Mother to come crawling out of a cupboard and ask him to sew buttons into his eyes.

He sat down and started to eat the toast, pocketing his phone quickly so that they couldn't change their minds and take it back on a whim. Checking the clock above the oven, it was now 7:15. He had 45 minutes of hell to experience before he got the joy of sitting through an hour dedicated to a God he was certain didn't exist. 

His parents were sitting in the living room drinking coffee, Enjolras's dad muttering something he could barely hear over the beat of his pulse. To many people, this would have been a normal family morning. To Enjolras, this was anything but.

He finished the toast, grabbed the tea and went to sit in the living room with his parents. He didn't join in on the conversation, which was about how more people should give the Conservative Party a chance at fixing the country. He just sat in an armchair in the corner of the room, curled around the hot mug of tea and waiting for when they could finally leave the house. Enjolras wanted this day to be over already, and it had barely begun.

He wasn't stupid. He knew there was a reason they'd suddenly decided he had to come to church with them today. There was no way they had just woken up in uncharacteristically good moods and decided today would be a great day to bond with their only son. There was something happening, something they had planned for. He just hadn't quite figured it out yet.

He finished his tea, and his parents finished their coffees. The church wasn't far from their house, and so the three walked down the street, dressed inordinately formal for their little city. They made it to the church faster than Enjolras hoped. He would have been happy with the walk lasting forever. He wasn't happy to be paraded around in a full suit and tie, but it was better than actually having to step foot in a church and be present for a whole service. 

When he did step foot over the threshold of the church, he was half surprised he wasn't instantly smote by the Lord just for daring to enter. His parents ushered him into the main area of the church, and into a pew near the front. He really didn't want to be near the front. He didn't want to be anywhere in this institution, really. But the closer he was to the front, the more attention he felt was on him and the fact that he very clearly did not belong. 

An old woman came up to his parents after they'd been sat down a few moments, making idle chatter with them about their lives and how much they admired the priest performing today's mass. After a moment, he felt her eyes on him.

"Is that Enjolras?" she asked, voice sunny and kind. 

He shot her a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, that's me."

"Well, I haven't seen you since you were such a tiny thing!" the woman gushed. He had no idea who she was, but she seemed to know him well. "Why did you stop coming to church?"

"I grew bored of this book and moved on to others," he said. It was sarcasm, but it also wasn't exactly untrue. He  _had_ grown bored of the Bible. It was terribly repetitive and still managed to conflict with itself wherever possible. He preferred  _Northern Lights_.

Slowly, the pews around them filled up. Enjolras sat and watched as every seat was slowly filled, and the room began to fall into a hush as the priest walked out in front of the crowd. 

He began to talk, and Enjolras wasn't really listening at first. His parents had said he had to  _attend_ church, and here he was, attending. They hadn't said anything about paying attention. 

A few minutes in, however, things started to turn sour. Enjolras began to realise this wasn't a normal Sunday mass. His parents must have orchestrated something in this situation, because the words coming out of the priests mouth were making his stomach turn. The typical fairy-tale spiel he had learned to expect from church all those years ago was gone. In its place were harsh, venom-laced words of hatred. He began speaking of  _sinners_ and  _homosexuals_ in that way only devout Christians can- with a sense of disgust, and the feeling that one is so far above it. 

He was speaking rapidly and passionately. Reeling off misrepresented bible verses and twisted interpretations of them. It felt like the entire service was constructed to target Enjolras directly. And maybe it was.

He could see now, exactly what his parents had planned. He was trapped. He was surrounded by people in the pews, and it would be incredibly difficult for him to stand up and leave. Instead he was stuck there, trapped and unable to escape as the priest slowly made his blood boil with his words. 

And then the priest began to speak about how being gay was a  _choice._  How nobody was really gay, and that every man or woman who thought themself gay was simply misguided and needed to be set on the "right path back to the Lord". Enjolras couldn't take any more of it. He stood up suddenly, with so much force that the pew shifted slightly despite the weight of everyone else sitting on it. He shuffled past countless feet, and stood in the aisle, body turned towards the priest.

Everyone was silent for a moment, watching him. It was almost like a challenge.

"Fuck you," he spat, turning away and walking out of the church. His heart was racing, and he could hear his pulse beating in his ears. They were ringing, too, and everything felt just a little less real than it should. Enjolras was furious. He didn't even know how he was supposed to react to his parents tricking him into sitting through a homophobic mass, likely intended to 'convert' him away from being gay. 

He started to walk home, fists balled by his sides and tears brimming in his eyes. He was so frustrated and angry that he felt like screaming.

When he got home, Enjolras's body began to work on autopilot. He didn't even think about his actions as he grabbed his suitcase and began throwing things in. His favourite items of clothing, the spare phone, his laptop, the penguin drawing Grantaire had given him what felt like a century ago now. He felt completely checked out of his own body. He was somewhere else dealing with whatever the fuck had just happened, while his body was doing the best job of protecting him it could by packing his things. 

He heard the door slam open just as he thought he'd grabbed everything he wanted. 

Enjolras froze. He hadn't even considered the fact that they might have excused themselves from the church and come following after him. He shoved his phone in his pocket, zipped up the suitcase, and turned around just as his door flew open.

" _WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!?_ " It was his father screaming this time, face dangerously close to his and voice so loud it hurt Enjolras's ears. He was fucking petrified, but he knew what he had to do.

"I'm leaving," he said, voice shaking slightly. He grabbed the handle of his suitcase.

"You aren't going anywhere," his dad spat, looking him up and down in disgust. "Do you know how disrespectful that was to say something like that to the father? We just had to promise a sizeable donation to the church for his forgiveness!" 

"He was very disrespectful to me first. I think it was quite fair."

"Don't be ridiculous Enjolras." It was his mother chiming in now, claw-laden hands wrapping around his arm in what he reckoned was supposed to come off as affection. "You aren't gay. Don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly," Enjolras spat, with a specific disdain for the last word of that sentence. "This is who I am. If it bothers you so much then that's fine, I'm gone." He moved past them towards his bedroom door, shrugging his mothers hands off of him.

"If you walk out of that door, boy," his father warned, deadly serious. "You will never be welcome in this home again." 

He kept on walking.

He didn't need to go very far to feel safe again. In eighteen years of his life, Enjolras didn't think he had ever been so thankful that his best friend lived next door. He knew Cosette's father was out of town today, and so knocked on her door without fear. 

She opened faster than he expected, and he felt like crying again when he saw her, this time from joy. Seeing the face of somebody he trusted so much after the ordeal that day had been was better than anything else in the world. 

She saw the suitcase by his side, and her face fell into sympathy immediately. She knew. 

She opened her arms in a silent offer, and he collapsed into them, wrapping his around her body and letting himself relax for the first time in too long. 

"I can't go back there," he whispered, shaking his head and sobbing into her shoulder. 

"Shhh," she hushed, rocking gently side-to-side as he cried. "I know. You're not. You're with me. You're okay now."

He loved Cosette. He didn't appreciate her enough sometimes. She seemed to be the only wholly positive thing in his life right now. Cosette didn't bring any guilt, or self-consciousness, or regret. Cosette understood him and loved him for who he was, with no conditions or needs to be met. 

They stood like that for a while, Enjolras just enjoying the safe and warm feeling he felt in the arms of his best friend. 

He only stopped to think when she asked, "why are you wearing a suit?"

"It's a long story," he laughed, sniffling back the last remnants of tears and trying to compose himself again.

"I've got time."


	11. Ten

It had been three days, and Valjean still did not know that Enjolras was living in his house. He'd been away on what was fleetingly described to him as a 'buisness trip', and so Cosette had been able to put off asking her father if Enjolras could stay with them for a while.

This is why he wasn't expecting to walk into her kitchen in his boxers and be met with Valjean, leaning against the sink and a spoon of cereal halfway to his mouth. 

"Oh... um, hi," he stumbled, trying not to panic and act like he'd been caught in the middle of some awful act. He'd never quite shaken that childish fear of his best friend's dad.

"Hello Enjolras," Valjean said, placing his spoon back into his bowl. "Why are you in my house, in the early morning, in a state of undress?"

He suddenly realised the obvious assumptions the older, overprotective man had more than likely jumped to. Not knowing what to do, he turned and ran back up the stairs to Cosette's room. Her door made a bang as it shut, which woke her up. She'd still been asleep when he went downstairs for a glass of water. He'd hoped to let her sleep a while longer before they got up to go to college, but that didn't seem to be happening now.

"Why the  _louuuud_ ," she groaned, one hand strewn across her face.

"Cosette, your dad's home," Enjolras told her, searching around the room for where he'd thrown his pyjama bottoms the night before. He was sleeping directly next to her radiator, and he'd gotten too hot. 

"Oh fuck," she still sounded half-asleep, but he could see her sitting up from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah. That's the general sentiment. And I wasn't wearing trousers, so I think he thinks something dodgy's gone on."

Cosette groaned again, getting up out of her bed. She threw Enjolras's pyjama bottoms at him, hitting him in the face. They both started laughing, which was quickly interrupted by a knock at the door. Enjolras hurried to get dressed. 

"Yeah?" Cosette invited, and the door slowly opened to reveal Valjean peering from behind it. He took one sweeping look over Enjolras, saw that he was clothed, and focused back on Cosette.

"I think we need to have a conversation." Valjean said, a strange tone in his voice. He was visibly uncomfortable.

"Nothing happened, I promise you," she reassurred him, moving over to place her hands on his forearm.

"Why is the boy here?" he asked, nodding his head towards Enjolras, who was shuffling awkwardly on the spot.

"He had a really bad argument with his parents. They were treating him awfully, Dad. His mum barricaded him into his room! He can't go back there. Please let him stay, at least for a little while?" She was using her best pleading look, which Enjolras had been on the recieving end of many times before.

"And how do I know there's nothing funny happening here?" Valjean asked, eyes flicking back over to Enjolras. That disdain he'd held for him since he was a child was still there, still tangible in the old man's eyes when he looked over the boy. 

Enjolras could see Cosette struggling for words. There was one thing he could say that would quell his concerns, but he wasn't sure he was quite ready for that yet.

The air was getting thicker, and he could feel Valjean's patience waning. Desperate to not be kicked onto the street, he thought  _fuck it,_  and started to speak.

"I'm gay, Mr Valjean. That's what the argument with my parents was about. I have zero romantic interest in your daughter, I've been sleeping on the floor-" he gestured to the pile of blankets that had been his bed for the past few days "- please, Sir, I don't really have anywhere else to go."

He didn't know how he was going to react to Enjolras's revelation. On one hand, it meant that he wasn't interested in sleeping with his daughter- on the contrary, though, Valjean could easily have been as homophobic as his parents. 

"They kicked you out for being gay?" he asked, staring at Enjolras in a way that felt like it pierced through his soul.

"Yes, sir. They're very religious."

"As am I," Valjean said. Fuck. "But I prefer to listen to Jesus's love than pretend he had hatred."

Enjolras stayed silent, feeling relief wash over him that Valjean wouldn't do the same as his parents.

"You can stay," Valjean told him, with a nod of the head. "But no boyfriends in my house. You'll abide by the same rules Cosette does, am I clear?"

"Crystal," Enjolras said, a smile creeping up his face. Valjean patted Cosette on the shoulder, turned, and left the room.

The moment the door shut behind him, Cosette began to squeal. "You can stay!" she exclaimed, excitement in her voice as she ran over to hug him. They both lingered in the excitement for a while, swaying back and forth and laughing, before Enjolras noticed the clock on Cosette's bedside table.

"Cosette, we're gonna be late!"

Their small confrontation with Valjean had left them only twenty minutes to get dressed and hurry to college. Considering they lived a fifteen minute walk away, there was no way they were going to make it on time. 

The two arrived at college twelve minutes after classes had started. They stumbled into the atrium at the entrance breathing heavily, both struggling to remember what classes they were supposed to be attending. 

"Well you two are late," came a voice from a few feet away. It was Grantaire, sitting in a plastic chair with his feet propped up on the table in front of him. His black eye was almost completely faded, but there were still a litany of tiny bruises surrounding his slightly-crooked nose. Combeferre had said the A&E nurses had manually realigned it, but they didn't seem to have done a very good job.

"Don't you have a class now?" Enjolras asked, confused as to what exactly he was doing in the atrium.

"Well, yeah, I do. And so do you. Don't let me keep you from it." He waved the two away, and Enjolras walked on by, confused. He and Cosette said their goodbyes and parted ways to their individual classes.

Enjolras had Law. For once, it was him that would be late, and not Combeferre. He felt shame rise on his cheeks as he opened the door and entered the room. He wasn't usually late to college, especially so late so as to have missed a chunk of the lesson. He apologised to the teacher, and took his seat between Combeferre and Bahorel at their small table.

"You're late," Bahorel told him, face scrunched up in confusion.

"Thanks for the update, I wasn't sure what I was doing," Enjolras laughed, grabbing his paper and pencil case from his bag. 

"No, I mean like... why?" 

"I was just running late," he shrugged, trying to act like nothing out of the ordinary had happened in his life lately.

That's what he'd been doing these past few days- pretending. Pretending to everyone on the outside that he hadn't come out to his parents, that he hadn't run away from home, and that he wasn't technically homeless and leeching housing off of his best friend.

It helped him relax to pretend. To come to college and act like everything was perfectly normal. It let him forget how shitty his life had gotten, just for a few hours. When he was stressing over trespass laws and overdue homework he wouldn't have to stress about where he was going to live for the foreseeable future. 

He couldn't live with Cosette forever. He knew that. There would come a time when Valjean would want him to move on, when he couldn't justify being such a burden on them for any longer. Staying with them indefinitely just wasn't feasible.

But he didn't have anywhere else to go. 

Law dragged on for what seemed like decades. Enjolras enjoyed law usually, but Bahorel was seemingly too tired to crack jokes and Combeferre wanted to focus on absorbing as much content as he could before the mock exam they were going to take in a few days. They sat working quietly, the occasional snippets of small talk lingering in the air for moments before fading away again. Enjolras had to make a concerted effort not to get lost in his thoughts of stress and anxiety. 

He had a free period after Law. He bought a hot chocolate from the cafe and sat on the purple sofa in the corner, the one he'd spoke to Jehan on just over a week ago. Hours before he'd fucked his own life up permenantly, and set off a chain reaction that now presented him with the threat of homelessness. 

"You look lonely." It was a cheery thought from Grantaire that caught his attention. Looking up from the patch of wall he'd previously been staring at, he blinked repeatedly.

"Hi," he said a little dumbly, trying to gather his thoughts again. "Sorry I was... I zoned out for a bit there."

"I noticed," he laughed, sitting down beside Enjolras. "What's up?" 

"Nothing I'm... I'm fine, really." 

"Sorry if it sounds rude but like, you don't seem fine." Enjolras looked at him with a quizzical expression. "You're just like, really... distant. And I mean, you're usually a broody fucker, I'm not saying it's abnormal for you to gaze off into the distance. This just feels... different." 

This was one of the rare times in Enjolras's life where he wished Grantaire would pay less attention to him. Usually he would vie for it, beg in his head for just one more smile or quick glance his way. But this wasn't the attention he was after.

"I've just had a rough week," he told him, definitely over-simplifying the whole situation. 

"Is this more of the aftermath of the stupid thing I told you to do?" Grantaire's voice was twinged with guilt. Enjolras could tell that he wasn't going to be able to convince him it wasn't his fault with any semblance of ease. 

"It is, yeah, but stop feeling guilty about it. It was my shitty decision." He nudged Grantaire's leg with his foot to accentuate his point. 

"I'm going to carry at least some of the blame whether you like it or not," Grantaire teased back. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me? It's not my ears that are broken, y'know."

Enjolras usually had very weak defences when it came to Grantaire. Whereas with anyone else he kept his secrets under lock and key, a simple bat of the eyes from the soot-haired boy beside him could make him do anything. 

But he didn't want to let on about this.

It was stupid, he knew. The less people he told about what was going on with him, the fewer support outlets he had. It also made it much harder for him to speak to people, when the main event in his life currently was one he didn't want to speak to anybody about. It was stupid, but Enjolras never had been too good at being smart. 

He leant his head on Grantaire's shoulder, in a move that made him feel like Jehan. 

"Everything just got really bad, really fast." That was all he was willing to provide. He wasn't sure what he was expecting- sympathy, pity, or just a comfortable silence.

It wasn't Grantaire's arm coming to rest around his shoulders, holding Enjolras close, his thumb tracing light circles on his shoulder blade. His lungs were tighter than they'd ever been, his stomach doing backflips.

"I still have your jumper," Grantaire said after a while.

"What?" 

"The other night, when you were cleaning me up in the beer garden. It was cold as fuck and you gave me your jumper. I left wearing it and completely forgot about it- it's lying on my bedroom floor. It was comfy as hell, though, ten out of ten. Would borrow again."

"Keep it," Enjolras muttered. He didn't know how long it was going to be before he had to move again. He'd rather not start gathering stuff to weigh down his suitcase even more than it had to be.

Plus, he kind of liked the idea of his clothes lying on Grantaire's bedroom floor. Even if he hadn't recently been in them.


	12. Eleven

Enjolras was shocked that he'd never realized just how difficult it was for Cosette to convince her father to allow her to go anywhere. All they wanted to do was meet their friends for ice cream, and he watched in awe as Cosette spent a full hour buttering her dad up in order to ask him if she could go.

And when she finally did, he said no. 

It then took her an additional three hours of pleading and bargaining for him to change his mind, in exchange for her cleaning her room to an impeccably high standard and replanting the flowerbeds in the back garden. It seemed like an awful lot of stress and disagreement over ice cream. 

Enjolras felt that there was likely one obvious reason why Valjean was reluctant to let her go out with their friends- Marius. Ever since he'd began living in their house, Enjolras got to see just how much Valjean disliked Cosette's boyfriend. He scoffed whenever she mentioned him, and also seemed to make a point of mentioning that he wasn't welcome in his house whenever possible. It was incredibly odd and off-putting, and Enjolras didn't understand why he was so defensive.

Cosette just laughed it off. It didn't seem to phase her that her dad completely despised the boy she was so infatuated with.

He even glared through the living room curtains as Marius's car pulled up in the driveway, ready to pick him and Cosette up to meet the others at the ice cream parlour. 

"Bye, dad!" Cosette cheered as she opened the door, doing so as soon as she noticed Marius's car pulling up, so that the poor boy wouldn't have to knock on the door.

"Bye, Mr Valjean!" Enjolras mimicked, stepping out the door behind her. She rushed to hug Marius, and Enjolras took it upon himself to climb into the backseat of the car while they had an unnecessary reunion. 

Marius's car was a very strange place. Enjolras had never been inside of it before, and now that he was he couldn't stop thinking about the weird aura it gave off. There were several unopened Yankee candles strewn in the footwells, and a rather large stuffed sheep on the opposing seat.

"Uh, Marius?" he asked when the two lovebirds finally clambered inside.

"Yeah?"

"Why's there a sheep in your car mate?"

"Oh," he laughed, "that's Bernard." 

"That's... not really an answer, but I guess I'll accept it," Enjolras joked back. Marius didn't elaborate, and he was simply left to wonder what exactly Bernard was doing there.

"Why did we even bother driving," Cosette complained not ten minutes later. The ice cream parlour they'd all decided on had no parking, and it was taking an annoyingly long time to find somewhere they could legally leave the car.

"Because if we wallked, you'd complain that your feet hurt three minutes in," Enjolras teased. She turned around in her seat and stuck her tongue out at him. 

They did eventually find parking reasonably close to the parlour. When they got out of the car, Enjolras spotted Bahorel and Feuilly leaning against a pair of recycling bins, sharing a spliff. 

"That stinks you two," he shouted over, catching their attention.

"Enjolras!" they both cheered, Feuilly adding a very quick "andcosetteandmarius!" on the end to not seem rude. 

"I hope one of you's brought Febreze, I can't go home smelling like weed, Dad'll kill me."

Bahorel winked, throwing the spliff to the ground and putting it out with his foot. "You'll be fine."

They started to walk up the street to the parlour. As far as Enjolras knew, everyone from their friend group was meeting up today. It was a rare occurrence for them- there were so many of them and they were all usually so busy that it was difficult to find a time all of their schedules aligned to accomodate for. He was excited to have everybody gathered in the same place for the first time in a long time.

One person who wasn't happy, however, was Bahorel.

"I don't see why we're going to an ice cream place," he whined, dragging his feet. "I'm lactose intolerant, I can't eat ice cream." 

"You're the only one who can't," Feuilly stated, "we can't just change our whole plans based on one person."

"This is lactose intolerance intolerance," he grumbled.

"That would just make it lactose tolerance," Marius pointed out.

"So much for the tolerant  _lait_ ," Cosette sighed, giggling at her own joke. 

"That was terrible."

They entered the ice cream parlour in high spirits- some slightly  _higher_  than others- and quickly found their way to a table that was big enough to eventually seat everybody. Their 'table' was actually about three, but Feuilly slipped the waittress twenty quid to let them claim them. 

Slowly, members of their group began to arrive. Combeferre and Courfeyrac turned up together as usual, Jehan came rolling down the street and into the shop on his skateboard, and Joly and Bossuet floated through the door together not long after.

Soon, the only person absent was Grantaire. 

Realistically, there was no guarantee that he would turn up. Grantaire had been known to simply cancel plans in his head and never tell anybody else he had decided not to attend, instead ust not showing up and hoping they got the message.

However, Grantaire turning up anywhere always carried a 40 or so percent chance that he would bring a girl with him. Even if he had been told that it was a friends-only event, or a birthday party, or probably even somebody's private wedding. It was as if he struggled to exist without a girlfriend attached to his arm like a leech.

And sure enough, to absolutely everybody's dismay but his own, Grantaire turned up accompanied by a woman. The others around the table groaned as they saw him, trying and largely failing to keep their distaste hidden. They all loved and cared about Grantaire, but they were bored to death of the girls. He had to have been through every blonde in the city by now, Enjolras struggled to see how he was still finding new women to screw over.

She sat down in Jehan's recently vacated chair opposite Bossuet with a sickly sweet smile, looking over everyone individually.

"Hi," she giggled, "I'm Cerys." 

Grantaire dated a  _lot_  of girls. This was well established by now. There wasn't anybody who knew him that didn't know about his habits. His ten friends were more than used to dealing with his flavour of the week with courtesy and, on Enjolras's part, a forced smile. They listened to the endless menial gossip and tried to understand the intricacies of female friendships (why did girls never mean what they say? Cosette had tried to explain it to him many times, and he still didn't get it). They even befriended a few, hoping that this time he'd keep her around a little longer so they could get to know her properly. He never did. 

One thing all of his girlfriends had in common, besides appearance, was that none of them were this annoying. 

From the minute Cerys sat down at the table, the atmosphere shifted. One of the first things that left her mouth set the precedent for the whole night.

"Why do you guys all have weird straws?"

About three years ago, Enjolras had watched a documentary about plastic pollution in the oceans. One of the things featured in the documentary was a clip of a sea turtle with a plastic straw lodged in its nose. He'd bought a twenty-pack of metal straws from the internet that day, and distributed them to his friends. They'd all used them since.

"They're just reusable straws," he replied. Enjolras was ready to fight this cause if it came to it.

"What's the point? You get straws for free here,"

"Those are made of plastic," Joly jumped in. "They get thrown away after they're used once and end up in the ocean."

"But they're going to end up in the ocean anyway," she laughed, "you might as well use them."

Joly and Bossuet tried to explain the concept of supply and demand to her, and how the less straws people use the less are made, but it didn't seem to register with her. Enjolras stayed out of the conversation so he didn't get angry. This was supposed to be a nice day out with all of his friends, and he didn't want it to be ruined by his jealousy and one girl's skewed morals.

Jehan had been in the bathroom when Grantaire and Cerys turned up. They hadn't counted for Grantaire bringing an extra person to the meet-up, and so there weren't enough seats for him to sit back down when he returned. Seemingly without giving it a second thought, he walked over and sat down sideways in Enjolras's lap. 

He was glad Jehan was still comfortable with him. Before they'd kissed, it was completely normal for Jehan to clambour all over Enjolras. He did it to the others, too, just on a smaller scale. Jehan was a very affectionate person, and Enjolras would never have forgiven himself if he'd made him too uncomfortable to behave normally. He put his arms around Jehan's waist with a smile. He didn't deserve Jehan. He wished it was him his stomach flipped and heart skipped beats for instead of Grantaire, sometimes. Life would probably be a lot simpler if he reciprocated Jehan's feelings.

He could feel Cerys staring.

"Welcome back to the table," he laughed, looking up at Jehan, who stuck his tongue out in response.

"When can we order? I'm starving," Courfeyrac was starting to whine now, leaning over the table as if he was about to die from hunger. Combeferre leaved over Cerys to pass him a menu, which prompted everyone else on the table to pick theirs up too.

Enjolras decided on a large chocolate brownie topped in vanilla ice cream. Courfeyrac wanted a white chocolate crepe, and Cerys made Grantaire order a large sundae for them to share. Combeferre, Feuilly, and Bossuet all ordered giant cones, which Enjolras just knew would start to melt before they'd even begun eating them. Joly got a waffle topped with several scoops of ice cream. Bahorel, with an annoyed grumble, ordered a waffle on its own. Jehan ordered a sweet-filled sundae for himself. The waitress looked overwhelmed as she tried to jot everything down in her tiny notepad at the rate it was relayed to her from the table. She was about to turn to leave, when Cerys spoke up.

"Could you move us to the top of the list please? It's our anniversary."

"Three hour anniversary, maybe," Enjolras grumbled under his breath. Jehan fell into a fit of giggles, and the others looked at the two in confusion. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't do that, we go through the orders in chronological order."

"But it's our  _anniversary!_ Get your manager, I want to speak to him!" 

" _Cerys."_ Grantaire sounded so serious Enjolras could have fallen off his chair. "It doesn't matter. We're perfectly capable of waiting. Thank you." He smiled at the waitress, who quickly scuttled off before Cerys could speak up again.

"Why did you do that?!" she wailed the moment the waitress was out of earshot. "If you'd let me speak to the manager we would've gotten faster service and a discount!"

"She said no," Bossuet pointed out. 

"She was bluffing! Look, it always works for my mum. She gets us free stuff  _all the time_  by complaining!"

Cerys's mum sounded exactly like the type of person Enjolras wanted to avoid in life. Especially if she managed to raise somebody as irritating and disrespectful as this. He was also shocked that Grantaire had confronted her about it and de-escalated the situation. In the past, he'd let his flings do and say whatever they wanted, even if it was shitty or disrespectful. 

Courfeyrac started up a conversation about the ethics of holding Eurovision in Israel, which gave them a less confrontational topic to discuss while they waited for their meals to arrive. Cerys tried to join in, but Enjolras wasn't sure she knew as much about the subject as she claimed to.

When their ice cream did arrive, they ate in happy silence for a few moments. Enjolras snuck a few skittles from Jehan's ice cream, and Jehan stole a frankly  _unreasonable_  amount of Enjolras's brownie. The silence was broken, unsurprisingly, by the stranger at the table.

"So, how do you know Grantaire?" 

Enjolras looked up, ready to answer if nobody else spoke up. He was surprised to see that, instead of looking around the table, Cerys was staring at one person in particular-

Cosette.

"Uhm..." Enjolras could tell she didn't know how to reply.

"We're his friends," Combeferre cut in, a sense of urgency in his tone.

"I was asking her." The passive aggressive yet overly-sweet tone of her voice made Enjolras want to throw up. 

"I'm the best friend of the  _man_ he's-"

"Been friends with for five years!" Enjolras interrupted. He had no idea what Cosette was trying to do, but he did know what she'd been on the verge of telling. His sudden panic had been anything but subtle. He was hoping his friends' unobservantness would play to his advantage here.

Cerys looked back and forth between him and Cosette, venom clear in her eyes. Combeferre, who was halfway through his cone of bubblegum ice cream, stood up. "I'm going to the-" he began, starting to walk before tripping up, his arm jerking forward and throwing his blue ice cream all over Cery's white shirt. 

He made a mental note to thank Combeferre when this was all over.


	13. Twelve

They were taking a train to Nottingham. 

Enjolras both loved and hated trains. On one hand, they were a brilliant form of public transportation that could take large amounts of people and cargo across vast stretches of land very quickly, creating less pollution than individual cars would do.

On the other hand, trains were busy. And loud. And he hated when he wasn't facing the direction he was moving in. He also didn't trust the weird electronic toilet doors not to open while he was in the middle of using the bathroom. 

It was Jehan who had suggested they take this trip. A Swiss band he liked were touring England for the first time in a while, and their nearest location was Nottingham. He didn't want to go alone, which was how Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Bahorel had ended up coming with him. The tickets were surprisingly cheap, and it was a Saturday, so he had no real reason not to. 

He'd never even heard of the band before. Jehan liked a lot of music, and a good portion of it was produced by bands he couldn't even pronounce. From his understanding, this particular band made Celtic rock music. He'd never met anybody who seemed just as happy and at home listening to that as he would listening to Kesha, but then again he'd never met anybody like Jehan full stop. 

Jehan was currently lounging across two train seats, his feet in Enjolras's lap, a Pepsi resting in the crook of his elbow. It was dangerously close to tipping over, and he was fairly sure Courfeyrac had been side-eyeing it in anticipation for the last half an hour. Despite the fact that Jehan was very close to falling asleep, he managed to keep it upright and prevent himself becoming soaked.

Bahorel had disappeared a while ago, and still hadn't come back. He'd claimed he was leaving to pee, but he'd been gone so long Enjolras feared he'd peed in a station and been left behind. When he aired this, Courfeyrac seemed less than concerned.

"I'm sure he's fine," he waved off, dramatically tapping the screen of his DS. Courfeyrac had recently taken up playing Picross, and got very passionate about his high scores. 

"Someone's fucking robbed me!" came a shout from the other end of the train. Curious, Enjolras leaned out of his seat to see what was going on. A man was stood there, hands on his head and spinning slightly on the spot. "Right," he announced, "nobody's getting off 'till I've found my jacket."

Enjolras could feel the fear bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. The man was clearly quite drunk, and could start being violent and lashing out if he didn't get his jacket back.

Others in the train carriage started to shout back at them, telling them to sit down and stop yelling at everyone. He could feel the situation escalating. Courfeyrac had looked up from his game now, and Jehan was stirring. Enjolras just watched on as the man walked up and down the aisle, swearing under his breath and looking at everyone in the carriage individually. It was making him anxious. He felt that, any minute, the man was going to turn around and accuse him specifically of stealing his belongings. Confrontation with drunk strangers wasn't something Enjolras enjoyed. 

"What's going on here then?" Enjolras turned around to see who had entered the carriage behind him. When he turned his head, he saw that it was Bahorel- standing with his hands on his hips, glaring down the aisle at the jacketless man. 

"My fuckin jacket's gone!" the man shouted back, still looking around as if he was about to attack.

"Is it this one?" Bahorel asked, reaching over to the seat beside where he was stood, pulling back to display a red and white coat. The man looked sheepish suddenly, ducking his head and walking over to where Bahorel stood. 

"Yeah, yeah it's that one... thanks mate."

Enjolras sighed in relief when the man sat down and stopped shouting at the rest of the carriage. It was unreasonable, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the man was going to confront him for the supposed theft of his coat. Enjolras had been around so much conflict lately that it felt like everyone was out to get him.

The rest of the train ride went without much issue. Bahorel sat back down with the others, and explained his absence merely with "there's a food carriage". Courfeyrac understood. 

They arrived in Nottingham with half an hour until the doors opened. They made their way to the venue, took their place in line, and waited to be let in. 

The people queueing with them were exactly the types Enjolras had expected to see. They all reminded him of Jehan in one way or another, all having that very specific vibe of mystery and otherworldly knowledge. There was one girl who made him do a double take- she had long, braided red hair with flowers poking out of the twists, the same way Jehan often wore his hair. 

"These really are your people, Prouvaire," Bahorel laughed, looking around the venue as they were finally allowed inside. It wasn't a very large place, which was to be expected from a band that were barely known in England. It was very square, and the stage covered the whole of the back wall, only waist's height above the floor. There was also no barricade, meaning the front row could easily place their hands right on the stage. It was a very strange atmosphere, and Enjolras had never been to a gig like it. 

Courfeyrac and Bahorel made a beeline for the bar, while Jehan grabbed Enjolras's hand and pulled him into the crowd of people gathering around the stage. They managed to get quite close, cutting through into a space at the corner of the stage, away from the center where most people had gathered. 

Bahorel and Courfeyrac came back with drinks for all four of them, Courfeyrac making a big show of remembering that Enjolras didn't drink while handing him a bottle of water. Enjolras had brought his own water, but he appreciated the gesture and accepted the drink with a smile.

The room slowly filled to the tune of the pre-show playlist that told Enjolras exactly what to expect. The word 'celtic' in celtic rock wasn't misleading, the instruments and rhythm of the music playing on the overhead speakers made Enjolras feel as if he was flying high over an Irish lough surrounded by a forest, looking down at the ground below and feeling the wind rush through his hair.

He didn't feel much different when the actual band began to play. There was no opening act, which seemed strange to him, but Jehan reassured him it was because the band wanted to maximise their time onstage playing for their fans. 

Jehan's eyes lit up bright when they came onstage. He grabbed Enjolras's arm in excitement, and started bobbing up and down on the spot. The crowd screamed around them, and Jehan joined in, and the others could only look on in amusement and affection as their friend burst with excitement. 

It didn't take long for them all to start having a great time. While neither Bahorel, Courfeyrac nor Enjolras knew the lyrics to the songs, they danced along and jumped up and down when appropriate. It was, Enjolras realised halfway through a song about being lost in a forest, the first time he'd felt properly happy since being kicked out. It didn't matter, in this moment, that he was homeless and parentless- he was with friends who loved him, and he loved them equally in return. 

Somehow, throughout the night, the four of them crept so far around the corner of the stage that they ended up leaving the main area and standing sidestage beside members of the crew. They didn't seem to care much, which also struck Enjolras as odd. He'd think they'd be wary of random concertgoers encroaching on territory that was usually off-limits. It didn't seem to faze them at all.

In fact, they seemed to be getting a little  _too_ friendly with the crew. Courfeyrac, who was a while past drunk by now, had begun making out with a guitar technician of ambiguous gender in the break between two songs. Bahorel and what Enjolras thought may have been a lighting tech were talking enthusiastically about something he couldnt hear, and Jehan and a third roadie were jumping together and singing, the same expression of elation etched on both their faces. 

There was a lul between songs when Enjolras's phone began to ring. He signaled to Jehan that he'd be back, pushed through the crowd, and left onto the street. 

It was Grantaire. 

He answered, bringing the phone to his ear and feeling both confusion and anxiety creep up on him. It wasn't uncommon for Grantaire to call him, but he knew he was going to this concert tonight.

"Hello?"he asked, trying to listen in on the other's surroundings. There didn't seem to be any ambient noise on the other end, which he found strange. Usually when Grantaire called he had to struggle to hear him over the bassline of some club song and the chatter of other drinkers. But all he heard was silence. 

"Grantaire?" Enjolras prompted again, keen for Grantaire to answer him so that he could return to the gig.

"Aaah fuck," Grantaire slurred in reply. He sounded exhausted, and certainly not sober. "You're with- I shouldn't have..."

"Shouldn't have what?"

"Called. I shouldn't have called. I'll... I'll go."

"Wait," Enjolras stopped him, not wanting Grantaire to hang up just yet. He was drunk a lot of the time, but there was something different in his tone now. Grantaire was upset about something. "tell me what's wrong. You told me your ears aren't broken. None of me is."

"Don't throw my own knives at me," came a grumble from the other end of the phone. It didn't make any sense, but at least he was talking to him. Enjolras wasn't going to be picky right now.

"I'll try my best," he replied, laughing a little to himself.

"You're not the only one, y'know..." Grantaire trailed off. There were a few seconds of silence before he picked back up again. "Not the only one who does dumb shit because people tell him to."

Enjolras didn't like that Grantaire still seemed to feel guilty about him getting kicked out. Grantaire didn't even know that Enjolras  _had_ been kicked out. He didn't see how the other boy could possibly feel that way when he had no real idea what had happened to Enjolras. All Grantaire knew was that he'd told him to do something dumb and the consequences made his parents angry. 

It was at this point that Grantaire began to ramble.

"Éponine thought it was a good idea of like... non confrontational confrontation or some shit. But now I know it was just stupid so I'm sorry and just- penguins? It was dumb. I'm sorry. You should forget about it, I know you haven't said anything about it and that says like, everything, so you probably already did forget about it which is  _good_  because I'd much rather we forget it especially now he's in the picture and I just- I have no idea what I'm saying any more."

"I'm not too sure either," Enjolras replied. Grantaire had been speaking quickly and with a drunken slur. Enjolras made out most of what he said, but the sentences themselves didn't make any more sense than if he hadn't caught them. 

"You're busy, I'm going to go... this is rude." Enjolras heard a beep as Grantaire hung up and the connection was cut.  He was left with a kaleidoscope of butterflies in his stomach as he stood in an empty street in Nottingham town center, trying to piece together what on Earth Grantaire had been talking about, and what it was Enjolras had supposedly not said anything about. 


	14. Thirteen

He hadn't meant for this to happen. 

It had been suggested at dinner, a quick question in the crowd of nine other voices vying for attention. It was Courfeyrac, passion in his eyes and barbecue sauce on his chin, who had put forward that they should all meet up at Enjolras's house after college. They'd planned to meet at Courf's, but apparently his mother didn't want nine more kids to add to the veritable hoarde of children she already had. 

And it had been him, momentarily forgetting the situation he'd found himself in as of late, who'd said yes.

It was only when he met up with Cosette outside the entrance that he remembered his mistake. He'd sent off a quick group text, a feigned realisation that his parents were having the floors redone and not even he was allowed home that night, banished to Cosette's. 

He cursed his friend's resourceful nature when Combeferre replied  _that's okay, we can meet you at her's._ Cosette was part of the groupchat too, and simply sent a thumbs up in response. She truly did enjoy ruining Enjolras's life sometimes.

That's how they all ended up here. Ten teenage boys in the house of a girl who wasn't technically allowed to be around any of them. It was irresponsible for him to have brought them all here- especially Marius, who Enjolras doubted Valjean was ever going to like, but he couldn't see any way of stopping it without telling them what was really going on. 

Valjean wasn't home. This was something Cosette had repeated ad nauseum during their walk back to her house. She was right- he was at work and would be for the next few hours. That didn't stop Enjolras fretting over it, though. 

He tried to push it to the back of his mind and tune back in to whatever Bossuet was saying. He was recounting a story he'd read on the internet, something about a woman who'd lived in a stranger's wardrobe for years without him ever noticing. Joly was enthralled, but Enjolras wasn't sure whether that was because he found the story interesting, or he just liked gazing at Bossuet. 

They'd been at Cosette's house for about an hour, and had inevitably fractioned off into smaller groups. Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Bahorel had taken over one sofa and were watching cat videos on Courfeyrac's phone. Cosette and Marius were sitting at the kitchen island, foreheads oddly close together and hands clasped. Jehan had taken Joly's cane and a pocket knife and retreated to the far corner of the room, humming to himself and he carved what seemed to be flowers into the surface. Joly himself was sitting in Valjean's armchair, Bossuet on one arm as Enjolras sat at his feet. Combeferre and Feuilly were sitting cross-legged either side of the coffee table, Cosette's mp3 player between them. 

"Cosette?" Feuilly asked loudly, "what's ' _to anyone'_?"

"What?" she asked, turning away from Marius to face him. Feuilly had been rather quiet for the past hour, and so his sudden outburst piqued the interest of the whole room. 

"' _Two N E one'._ What is it?" He spoke slower this time, looking at the small machine in his hands with deep confusion. Cosette began to laugh.

"It's pronounced  _twenty one_ , Feuilly. They're a K-pop group. I thought you'd know about them seeing as you like Korea so much."

"He likes North Korea, Cosette. They're a bit different," Enjolras laughed.

"I don't  _like_  North Korea. I'm interested in their government and want the liberation of their people," Feuilly said as he took the headphones out of the mp3 player and pressed play. The song that filled the room sounded just like something he'd hear on the radio- upbeat and pop-y, almost on the verge of club music. 

"This is brilliant," Feuilly gushed, his eyes lit up as he listened. "I can't believe I've never heard this before!" 

"I have the CDs upstairs if you want to borrow them," Cosette laughed, jumping down from her seat and walking towards the middle of the room. 

"Yes please..." he replied. He'd fallen into some sort of trance listening to the song, and Enjolras and Combeferre shared amused looks across the room. 

"Jehan," Enjolras asked, trying to bring the distant redhead back into the conversation, "you know music. Did you know about them?" 

Jehan furrowed his brow, walked over to where Feuilly was standing and read the name from the mp3 player. "I've heard of them," he responded, "but never actually listened. I prefer Black Pink."

"I'm gonna waste so much money on this..." Feuilly mumbled. Cosette left the room to gather her CDs for him to borrow. 

"Joly," Jehan said, extending the arm he held the other's cane in, "I'm done. It's not that great, but I did my best," 

Joly had only got this new cane a few days ago. Bahorel had snapped his old one whilst antagonising a bevy of swans with it. This new one his mother had brought home was thick and made of plain, pale wood. Joly couldn't bear to live with such a boring accessory, so Jehan offered to make it look nicer.

There were now vines curving around the whole body of the cane, leaves etched into the wood decorated with each individual vein. There were flowers at odd intervals, intricate roses that flowed along the vines and ran down the length of the wood. 

"It's beautiful," Joly said, beaming up at Jehan and pulling him in for a hug, "thank you."

From the other sofa, Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Bahorel interrupted the sweet moment with a round of laughter. They were still all focused on Courfeyrac's phone, and whatever they were watching must have been greatly amusing. Enjolras stood up and walked behind them, and saw what they were watching- a video of Donald Trump struggling to say the word "anonymous". Enjolras had seen it the day before, and spent at least half an hour trying to enunciate the same way. He hadn't succeeded. 

He wasn't surprised when the three began to do the same, all trying out their own versions of Trump's mispronunciation. It was funny how even just Grantaire rambling out mismatched syllables made his heart ache.

Courfeyrac had offered up a particularly butchered version of the word when Enjolras head the front door open. His stomach lurched and everyone fell quiet. They all knew that they shouldn't be there.

He watched stunned as Valjean turned the corner and entered the room, stopping in place as he saw the collection of boys in his front room.

"Where is Cosette?" he asked calmly, and Enjolras choked on an answer.

She walked back into the room at just this moment, the collection of CDs for Feuilly in her hands and halfway through a sentence. 

"-wasn't sure which ones you wanted so I brought- oh." She froze, looking over at Valjean. "Dad."

"Cosette, would you mind telling me why these boys are in my house?"

"Dad, I'm sorry, it was my idea-"

"I think we should leave," Courfeyrac annouced, gesturing for everyone else to get up. Enjolras watched as his friends filed out quickly, throwing a series of "sorry Sir," and "bye Cosette"s behind them. 

It wasn't long until the three of them were alone, standing in a triangle like some sort of Wild West showdown. Valjean turned to Enjolras slowly, his eyes filled with so much anger that they could have burnt holes in the carpet.

"Enjolras, could you please wait upstairs while I speak to my daughter."

He didn't have to tell him twice. Enjolras apologised, and left the room swiftly. He made his way up to Cosette's room cursing himself and his terrible decisions. If only he'd watched the clock better, or come up with a better excuse as to why they couldn't meet up today he wouldn't be in this mess. He'd broken the only rule Valjean had given him, and one that he'd known well since he was a kid. Cosette wasn't allowed to be around boys if her dad wasn't there. Especially not in her house. 

Enjolras sunk to the ground, on the rug in front of the radiator in his makeshift bed. He wasn't sure what to do. He knew Cosette could handle her father- he was overprotective, but he was far from a cruel man. But he knew it was likely he wouldn't be able to stay here for much longer. He would have to leave Cosette's house and go... where? Cosette had been his only option when he first came here, and now he'd messed up and ruined it for himself. There was nowhere else he could go. Combeferre's house was tiny, Courfeyrac's parents already had more children than they could house, and Jehan lived in a bedsit. He didn't think he was close enough to any of his other friends to even ask. 

He'd been homeless for a while, but now he was facing the reality of not even having a roof over his head at night. It wasn't like he could go home. His parents had made it very clear that he wasn't welcome back.

He turned around and looked out of Cosette's window. He'd made a conscious effort not to do so before, because the view made his heart sink. When he left, his curtains had been wide open. They still were. Because of the closeness of their two houses and the time of day, Enjolras could see inside his bedroom as clearly as if he was still inside of it. The still-crumpled bedsheets and random assortment of knicknaks on his shelves made it look as if he was about to walk back in at any moment.

Enjolras knew he never would.

He could hear Cosette's footsteps coming up the stairs. He turned to face the door and waited. She opened the door slowly, entering the room and shutting it behind her with a solemn look on her face. Enjolras knew exactly what was coming next.

"What did he say?" he asked, knowing full well that the answer would not be good for him. 

"Well first he was angry. But I think I managed to calm him down." She sat down on her bed. "He acknowledged that he's too strict, and that it's ridiculous of him to expect me not to be around my friends, or let them into my home." 

She paused, and Enjolras watched as she swallowed. If the room were quiet enough, he could have heard the cogs in her head grinding as she thought of how to word her next statement. 

"He said he wants you to leave."

He nodded in response. It was what he had been expecting, but it still stung nonetheless. Enjolras would have been lying if he tried to claim there wasn't some small part of him that had hoped Valjean wouldn't want him gone. That he'd get one more chance. 

Enjolras started racking his brains for the best outdoor shelters, trying to think whether or not he'd be able to get away with sleeping under the Guildhall arch. He didn't know much about homeless culture, but he figured it was likely there was some sort of established territory and hierachy.

Cosette stood up from her bed, and smiled at him. "Hey," she said, raising her eyebrows, "you're going to be okay." He wasn't sure that was true. She began collecting his things from around the room- a cheap hairbrush he'd bought, shirts that were mixed in with her own laundry, his college textbooks. She worked silently, taking things from around the room and placing them in front of Enjolras. He was thankful for it in a way, because he wasn't sure he'd have the stomach to do it himself.

"I've got nowhere to go," he told her hopelessly, looking at his few remaining belongings, splayed out on the floor in front of him. For once he allowed himself this moment of weakness, let himself tell somebody what was going on inside his head. He didn't even particularly want an answer, especially not the one he got.

"That's not true," she said, "Grantaire's outside."


	15. Fourteen

Cosette enjoyed ruining Enjolras's life.

This is something he had known since the age of seven. They'd gone to the beach together, bags packed with buckets and spades of various colours and shoes ready to be covered in sand. Enjolras had been lying down on a beach towel, exhausted from digging a very large hole that was supposed to go to China. The fact that the antipode of England was not in fact China was irrelevant.

He had been calm, relaxing in the sun, until he heard Cosette run over giggling. The next thing he knew, she poured a bucked full of seawater over his head, and a very large crab landed on the sand beside his head. From that day, he'd learned that his best friend would go to any lengths to watch him squirm.

And nothing had changed.

"You told him?" he asked, looking up at Cosette in confusion.

"He figured it out himself, dummy. You're not as unreadable as you think." She threw another shirt at him. "He called me after I'd spoken with Dad and told me you could stay with him if you needed a place."

"I can't live with Grantaire, Cosette, I'll  _die._ " He wasn't sure she understood just how serious this was for him. It was difficult enough just being around Grantaire in college and getting nervous when he spoke. Staying in his house and seeing him constantly could actually kill him.

"Do you have any other options?"

She was right. He didn't. Which is why Enjolras made his way out of Cosette's house, suitcase in hand, and met Grantaire at the door.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking Enjolras up and down.

"Not really," he replied.

Grantaire nodded politely, clearly unsure how to respond. He reached out and took Enjolras's suitcase from him, saying goodbye to Cosette and walking out to the street. Enjolras followed.

There was a car on the other side of the street. It wasn't anything special, an old Ford Fiesta that was probably third-or-fourth hand. He'd never seen it before, and was confused when he realised Grantaire was walking directly towards it.

"Is this your car?" he asked, trying to recall any conversation that indicated Grantaire drove.

"Yeah, I've had it for like a year," Grantaire laughed as he opened the boot of the car and put Enjolras's suitcase inside, "did you not know?"

"No..."

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me." Enjolras wasn't sure if he was making up how sad Grantaire sounded. They got in the car without another word from Enjolras.

Enjolras had never been to Grantaire's house. He wasn't sure any of his friends had. In five years of friendship, it had never once been brought up in conversation that anyone might go back to Grantaire's. The only snippets he'd seen were whatever few inches of wall were in the background of the drunken video calls he'd recieved.

Grantaire also never spoke about his homelife. Enjolras didn't think he'd ever heard him mention his parents, or siblings, or anything that told him more about the way he grew up. It sometimes felt as if Grantaire only existed at college and around town. This was all he could think about as he realised he was finally going to see where his friend lived. He was still trying not to think about the fact that he was going to live there too.

Grantaire had been driving for a weirdly long time when he finally stopped in the car park of a tall block of grey flats. They were still in the city, but this was a part that Enjolras had never been to.

"You live here?" he aired, looking around at the area. It still carried the look of the old cathedral city, but there was a lingering air of deprivation. He couldn't say he was surprised that Grantaire lived in an area like this, but it was still jarring to see.

"We're third floor," Grantaire said as he opened his car door. Enjolras followed suit.

"Do your parents know I'm coming?" he asked, deliberately trying not to run out of things to say.

"Not an issue," Grantaire shot that line of questioning down quickly, grabbing Enjolras's suitcase from the boot.

They entered the building and climbed the stairs to Grantaire's flat in silence, Enjolras's heart thudding in his chest. They walked past more flats than he cared to count before Grantaire stopped, turning to a blue door with a very small cat sticker next to the peephole.

"You like kids, right?" And with that, he opened the door.

The first thing Enjolras noticed in Grantaire's flat was clutter. This wasn't just Grantaire-clutter, however. There were half-butchered Barbie dolls lying on shelves, wooden trains scattered across the rug and a series of small shoes lined up beside the front door. Grantaire hadn't been joking when he mentioned kids. He found it odd that he'd never heard about Grantaire having siblings before.

"Éponine, I brought home a stray!" Grantaire shouted into the house. Enjolras wasn't sure why Éponine was here, or why she was being informed of his presence. Did she often linger in Grantaire's flat while he wasn't home?

"If you've brought another fucking cat into this flat, R, I swear to god-  _oh! Enjolras!_ " Éponine came out from behind a doorframe drying a glass with a teatowel, irritated and then switching to cooing at Enjolras when she noticed his presence. Despite it only having been a few months since he saw her in college, she looked older than she had then. Not in a negative way, but in the sense that she looked much more adult than before. She was even wearing a blouse.

"I'm the stray," Enjolras smiled, still having no real idea what was going on.

"I can see that," she laughed, "Grantaire, why is he here?"

"He's been kicked out of two houses in the past few weeks," Grantaire said, moving towards Éponine and putting on his best pleading voice. He took one of her hands in his. "He needs somewhere to stay."

"Who needs somewhere to stay?" Enjolras looked towards the source of the new voice. A young, dark haired girl was standing in the doorway across the apartment. She was much smaller than Éponine, but other than stature there wasn't much to distinguish the two. They shared the same sharp nose, the same oval face, and the same hazel eyes. He could tell the two were siblings.

"Hi," Enjolras greeted sheepishly.

"Hey," the girl greeted, "I'm Azelma."

"Enjolras," he replied, and watched in confusion as Azelma made a shocked face at Éponine, and then looked towards Grantaire.

"Well you're not having my bed," she joked, walking into the room Éponine had recently vacated.

"Who's taking Zel's bed?" Enjolras was still trying to piece together what was going on as a fifth, much more tired voice rang out through the flat. In the same doorway Azelma came through now stood a short, blonde-haired boy who almost certainly had just gotten out of bed. His hair was wild and standing on end, his eyes half-lidded and cotton pyjamas shifted out of place.

"Gavroche," Éponine sighed, dropping Grantaire's hands and walking over to the young boy. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"And Grantaire's not supposed to bring strangers home anymore!" he shouted behind him as Éponine ushered the young boy back into what Enjolras supposed was a bedroom.

"You okay?" Grantaire asked, walking back over to Enjolras. He had an amused smirk on his face.

"I'm good," he breathed, "just a little confused. Do they all live here?"

"Yep," Grantaire laughed, "you know Éponine. Those are her siblings. This is our place. No parents, no rules."

"SOME RULES!" Éponine shouted from the other room, causing Grantaire and Enjolras to devolve into a fit of giggles.

Enjolras was still trying to wrap his head around the whole situation. It was obvious now that the two lived alone together, but he still wasn't sure why Éponine's siblings would be there too. As far as he knew, it wasn't common for teenagers to move out and take their brothers and sisters with them. He also struggled to see the link between Éponine and Azelma and Gavroche. Where the sisters looked like different layers of the same matryoshka doll, the little boy was nothing like them. They shared their dark skin and brown hair, whereas his skin was pale and hair was golden. He couldn't imagine them as siblings, and never would have guessed if he hadn't been told.

Éponine came out from the bedroom again, still holding the glass and teatowel in one hand. She walked over to where Enjolras and Grantaire stood.

"You'll clean up after yourself?" she asked, looking Enjolras up and down, "You'll be nice to the kids? You won't bring random girls home?" Enjolras nodded in response. "You're already better than Grantaire. You can stay."

"Hey! I'm nice to the kids!" Grantaire protested, hands thrown dramatically in the air.

"Sure, but those other two?" Éponine quipped, making a sarcastic face at Grantaire.

"You got me there," he replied.

"This is a really small place..." Enjolras said, looking around. He wasn't wrong. The living room was approximately the size of his bedroom, the sofa, a set of shelves and the TV being the only real furniture he could see beneath the mess that was strewn around. There were four doors leading out of the main room, which Enjolras assumed lead to the kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom. He was struggling to see where everyone slept.

"It is," Grantaire agreed, walking towards the sofa and throwing himself down onto it, "but it's our place. Well, Éponine's place. I'm here because I'm great."

"You're here because I let you be," Éponine laughed, joining Grantaire on the sofa. Enjolras tried to follow suit, but the only remaning seat was a bright pink pouffe that didn't quite have the same level of comfort.

"Where does everyone sleep?" Enjolras asked. He figured if he didn't, he'd never find out.

"Gav and Azelma have that room," Éponine said, pointing to the doorway Gavroche had stood in minutes prior. As he looked over, he saw Azelma slip through. "Grantaire has the master bedroom, and I sleep here." She tapped the sofa cushions lightly.

"Why does Grantaire get the master bedroom? Not to be rude," he quickly clarified, "it just seems like it's more your place than it is his." They both laughed under their breaths.

"That's actually true. I pay most of the bills. He's just a lodger." Grantaire seemed offended. "He has the bedroom because I'd rather he didn't fuck random girls on the sofa the kids eat breakfast on."

"That is a very valid reason," Enjolras laughed.

"You're gonna have to sleep on my floor," Grantaire said, an apologetic look on his face. "I hope that's alright, we haven't really got anywhere else."

"That's fine," Enjolras smiled, "I was sleeping on Cosette's anyway."

 _"That's fine"_  were the two words Enjolras was deeply regretting later on that night. While he truly hadn't minded sleeping on Cosette's floor, and didn't care about sleeping on Grantaire's in theory, there were some major differences between the two.

For example, Cosette's bedroom was fitted with plush carpet, and he'd appropriated one of her sheepskin rugs to use as a bedsheet. It hadn't occurred to him that it was very possible Grantaire's room would have neither.

Which is how he found himself awake at 4am, lying on the laminate floor of the man he was still very much enamoured with, a crick in his neck and backache like he'd never felt before.

He sat up, letting out a groan as he felt his back scream in pain. He knew it was ridiculous for him to be so caught up over his current situation. There were people who had it  _so much_  worse than him, who had no friends to catch them when they fell and did in fact have to sleep on the cobbled streets.

But still. This sucked.

"Can't sleep?" came a tired voice from across the room. He looked over to see Grantaire sitting up in bed.  _"I'll wear a shirt tonight, just for you,"_  he'd joked earlier. It had taken all of Enjolras's willpower not to reply with  _please don't._

"This floor sucks," he laughed, pushing his hair back from his eyes.

"Yeah, it's shit. Me and Éponine slept on the floor in here the first few nights cuz we didn't have a bed, or the sofa, but... that's not important." Being in this house, Enjolras had discovered, was frustrating. He always felt as if he was on the verge of finding out a long and tragic backstory that would perfectly explain everything he was seeing, only to be steered away at the last moment.

They sat in silence for a moment, Enjolras wondering if he'd ever find out how the four had come to live this way, before his thoughts were interrupted.

"Get up here," Grantaire sighed, shifting over in the bed and pulling the covers back.

"Are you sure?" Enjolras asked, looking at him in confusion.

"Yes I'm sure, I'm not asking you to marry me mate just get in the fucking bed."

Enjolras didn't need to be told twice. He got up from the floor and walked over towards Grantaire's bed, climbing in on the opposite side and settling in. It was much softer and definitely warmer than the floor had been.

"Can't have you breaking your pretty little back on the floor," Grantaire mumbled, turning over to face away from him. Enjolras wasn't sure whether he was supposed to have heard that or not.


	16. Fifteen

Enjolras woke up unable to feel the fingers on his left arm. This was concerning, because he'd definitely been able to feel them when he'd gone to bed the night before. It was only when he began to wake up a little more, and tried to move his arm, that he realised what had happened.

Grantaire was laying on top of his arm, facing away from Enjolras but still intimately close. The two usually slept as far away from eachother as was comfortable, but it seemed that in the night they'd drifted so much closer. 

On one hand, Enjolras was tempted to stay lying there for a while. It would be nice to trick himself and pretend this was anything but an unconscious accident. On the other, he was more than a little mortified, and if Grantaire knew he was awake and not doing anything to resolve the situation he might just move into the city's lake and begin a new life as a swan.

He wasn't given long to make a decision. Before he'd decided what to do, Grantaire began to stir. Enjolras pretended to be asleep. He felt Grantaire shift on his arm as he woke up, and did his best to keep his breathing steady. 

"Ah, shit," he heard Grantaire whisper. He felt him sit up, and had to stop himself from making noise as he felt the blood rush back into his arm. "You idiot, R."

Enjolras continued to fake being asleep. He listened as Grantaire got up, sighed, and left the room. He wasn't sure whether or not he should wait before following suit. He decided to stay in bed for a while. If he got up now it was likely that Grantaire would realise he hadn't actually been asleep, and he didn't think he could face that embarassment. 

By the time he did decide it was safe to leave the room, Grantaire and Éponine had already made breakfast and were sat around the TV with the kids. 

"Morning sunshine," Éponine joked, pushing a cup of coffee across the floor in a way that indicated it was for him. He sat down in front of it, between Éponine and the half of the sofa Gavroche was sitting on. It was an odd setup to him, sitting on the floor and sofa around a television. He'd spent most of his mornings before moving here around a wooden table, trying to eat his Cheerios under the watchful eye of his mother. To suddenly be in such a warm and casual environment was a shock. The kids were chatting mindlessly, and Éponine and Grantaire discussing something to do with their landlord. He felt safe here. Enjolras wondered if this is what every family breakfast was supposed to be.

Éponine always left for work early. This meant it was down to Enjolras and Grantaire to get the kids to school on time. Most days it was easy, but today Gavorche wasn't having it.

"I'm not going," he announced as Azelma was putting her shoes on.

"Yes you are," she said, throwing one of his shoes at him. He was sat on the sofa, arms crossed and an unhappy look on his face.

"I'm staying right here."

Enjolras began to brace himself for what he thought would be an inevitable hour spent convincing Gavroche to go to school. He didn't know much about children, but he did know that they were typically not up for negotiations at eight in the morning.

"You have to go to school, Gavroche. What would your sister say?" Enjolras asked. Grantaire was in his bedroom, and so he was on his own attempting to deal with this.

"She isn't here. She can't say anything." Gavroche wasn't budging. Enjolras didn't want to get angry at the kid, but it was way too early for this. He was still trying to think of what to do next when Grantaire came back into the room.

"What's happening?" he said, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

"Gavroche doesn't want to go to school," Enjolras said, gesturing towards the blonde kid huffing and puffing on the sofa.

"Room, Gav," is all Grantaire said in response, and Enjolras watched in confusion as Gavroche got up willingly and walked into his bedroom, Grantaire following close behind. He wasn't too sure what had just happened, but as long as both kids got to school on time he didn't really mind. 

"Does he do this a lot?" he asked Azelma, who just shrugged in return. He wasn't too sure she liked him much, but then again Enjolras wouldn't have liked a stranger moving into his house when he was fourteen either. 

Gavroche and Grantaire came out of his room a few minutes later, Grantaire looking relieved and Gavroche holding a five pound note. Enjolras walked over to Grantaire.

"Did you  _bribe_  him?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. Grantaire laughed.

"No. I solved his problem. I asked him why he didn't want to go to school, he said they were having a special meal and he didn't have any money for it. I just gave him the money he needed so he wouldn't feel embarrassed." 

"Oh," Enjolras said, "that makes a lot more sense I guess." 

It hadn't even dawned on Enjolras to ask  _why_ Gavroche hadn't wanted to go to school. His parents had never done that for him- instead, they'd opted to continue attempts to force what they wanted. What Grantaire had just done instead made so much more sense, fixing the issue instead of trying to force the kid to suffer through it.

After that, the rest of the morning ran smoothly. They managed to get the kids to school on time, and Enjolras and Grantaire made it to college fifteen minutes before their classes started.

They walked into college together, both making a beeline for the dinner hall. It didn't occur to Enjolras that they'd never turned up to college together in the past before it was too late.

Joly and Bossuet were talking about a cute teaching assistant they'd met the day before when Courfeyrac interrupted, loudly, with a shout of " _what the fuck!"_.

"Hi Courf," Grantaire laughed, sitting down besides Bahorel. 

"Since when did you two ride together?" Combeferre asked, looking between the two.

"It's complicated," Enjolras dismissed. He sighed when he realised his friends were all looking at him expectantly. Except Jehan, who was smirking. He realised that he might as well bite the bullet and tell them what was going on, at least in vague terms. He rubbed his eyes, before admitting "I'm staying with Grantaire for a while." 

There were confused looks shared around the table, and Grantaire shrugged his shoulders.

"Is everything okay, Enj?" Joly asked. 

"Yeah, well- not really. But it's all stable, I guess. I'm not bad, just not good." The group all nodded in understanding. Enjolras hoped that would be the end of it, but of course Bossuet had to interrupt and ruin it.

"Where are you sleeping? I didn't think Grantaire's place was that big." 

 _Where are you sleeping. Where are you sleeping. Where are you sleeping._ The words repeated in Enjolras's head over and over again, the dread of answering them increasing every time. It took him a few seconds to spit out a coherent answer.

"Uh, the floor. I'm on the floor," he lied. He wasn't sure why he lied. Maybe it was because he thought Grantaire would be embarrassed by the truth, or because he was scared of the way his friends would react. They had still remained silent about the kiss, and he didn't exactly feel comfortable telling them he was sleeping in bed with a man every night, even if it was frustratingly platonic. 

The bell for first class rang after he said that, and the group disbanded and left to go to class. Grantaire didn't say a word as he walked away.

Enjolras spent his day at college mostly playing Boxes with Combeferre and trying desperately to listen to what his teachers were saying. For whatever reason, it had really stuck with him that Grantaire hadn't said bye before going to his lesson like everybody usually did. He knew he was likely overthinking it due to his feelings for him, but it still seemed odd. He didn't want to obsess over it, but he couldn't quite get it out of his head.

The thoughts became even more prominent when, after college, Grantaire's car was gone. Enjolras knew where it had been parked, and the space was now glaringly vacant. He wasn't sure what to do. The apartment was at least a half hour walk away, and Enjolras didn't even know the way.

He dialed Grantaire's number, but the line rang continuously until the automated voice told him  _Sorry, the person you are trying to reach is currently unavailiable_ and he cursed ever depending on Grantaire. He cursed every interaction they had had in five years that had lead to this exact situation.

He called Éponine next. He felt guilty, because he knew that she was still at work, but he wasn't sure how else he was going to get back to the flat.

"What's up?" she asked in hushed tones, sounding a little irritated.

"I'm sorry for calling you at work, but Grantaire's left without me and I don't know the way back. I tried calling him but he didn't pick up."

She cursed down the line.

"I'll send you the address. Put it into the map app and it should show you the route. I've gotta go." She hung up, but Enjolras understood. Over the last few days, Enjolras had learnt that Éponine worked as a receptionist in a fancy hotel on the hill. They paid her really well because she was young and pretty, and she managed to make enough to pay the rent and support the kids. Grantaire had a job too, but she'd made him stay in college, so it was only part-time and he earned nowhere near as much as she did. Éponine's job meant that they all had a place to live, and he didn't want to jeopardize that.

He made a mental note to start applying for jobs, too. He hated the fact that he was living in their house without providing any money for the household.

The message containing the address came through, and he copied it into the map app. He was in for a long walk.

Grantaire's car wasn't in the car park when he finally reached it. College had ended about fourty five minutes ago, and he'd either been here and left or never came home at all. He wasn't sure which he'd be angrier at.

He climbed the stairs quickly, rushing to get into the flat. If Éponine was at work and Grantaire had gone AWOL, that meant the kids were home alone. Enjolras trusted Azelma, but from what he'd seen Gavroche could be a handful.

He was relieved, when he finally made it back, to see that Gavroche was sitting on the sofa happily eating a packet of crisps and watching TV. It was silly, but he had been half-concerned that the kid would've set the house on fire by now.

"Has Grantaire been back yet?" he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"No," Gavroche said, confused, "I thought he'd be with you?"

"Yeah, so did I," Enjolras said, dropping down on the sofa next to him.

"Enjolras?" Gavroche asked.

"Yeah kiddo?"

"Is R your boyfriend?"

He audibly choked. He hadn't been expecting such an abrupt and seemingly out-of-the-blue question from somebody so small.

"No, we're just friends," he said, noting just how strangled his voice sounded.

"You sleep in his bed," Gavroche pointed out.

"Because his floor is uncomfortable. I promise you he's not my boyfriend," Enjolras said. He wanted nothing more than for this conversation to end quickly. It seemed like today was just the day everyone asked Enjolras questions he didn't want to answer.

He stayed with Gavroche until Éponine came home hours later. There had still been no sign of Grantaire, and the flat went to bed without a clue of where he had gone.

Until 4am, when Enjolras was shaken awake by heavy hands to the tune of drunken giggles.

"What?" he asked, voice a tired mumble.

"Move. I want the bed tonight," came the reply. He opened his eyes to see Grantaire looming over him, drunk and with a black-haired girl on his arm. He could feel his heart breaking as he sat up and removed himself from the bedsheets.

"Thanks, mate," Grantaire shot behind him as Enjolras left the room.

He wasn't sure what to do. He knew that Grantaire slept around and got with a lot of girls. He'd known that for years. But he'd never  _seen_ it- never seen the boy he felt so deeply for so clearly lusting after somebody he could never be. He'd never known when Grantaire was with somebody before, and now that he did he hated it.

He walked out into the living room to see the sofa vacant. Éponine wasn't there. He found her in the kitchen, dumping chocolate Nesquik into glasses of milk.

"I figured you wouldn't want coffee or tea so early," she said, turning around and handing one glass to him. He took it, and thanked her.

"He gets like this sometimes," she said, shifting uncomfortably. Enjolras could tell she was tired, and felt bad that she was being kept up like this.

"I've seen it before... it's just so much different to see it like this." She nodded at him, and he drank the milkshake so that it didn't go to waste.

"I know, you know," she said, "I know you have feelings for him."

Enjolras didn't say anything.

"Have you noticed that this one doesn't look like you?"

He was burning a hole in the kitchen cabinets trying not to look her in the eye.

"Don't be a fucking idiot, Enjolras," Éponine scolded, before leaving the room.


	17. Sixteen

Enjolras slept on the floor again that night. In the morning when he woke, his back ached like hell. He'd been getting used to sleeping in Grantaire's bed, and had forgotten just how uncomfortable the flooring in this flat was. Éponine had given him some blankets for comfort, but they hadn't helped much. He'd decided he was going to buy a rug for the living room when he next had the money. 

But Enjolras's sleep had been disturbed by more than just the floor. He couldn't stop thinkning about what Éponine had said to him-  _"Have you noticed that this one doesn't look like you?"._ The words had played over and over in his mind, and he still couldn't make any sense of them. Why would she have looked like him? None of them looked like him, they were all  _girls_ , that was the whole problem.

He continued this confusion throughout the morning. Grantaire emerged from his room nearing midday, the girl in tow behind him. Enjolras couldn't help but stare at her, still trying to piece together Éponine's words. The only thing he could think was that she wasn't blonde. They were all blonde, normally. Was that what Éponine had meant? But being blonde didn't automatically mean somebody looked like him, Enjolras thought. 

Éponine was cold towards the two all morning. Grantaire didn't recieve a response to his usual cheery "morning!", and there was no coffee waiting for him on the kitchen counter. Enjolras watched as Grantaire made breakfast for himself and the girl. The girl smiled at him, but it wasn't reciprocated. It wasn't her fault, he knew. She didn't ask to be brought into the middle of this- whatever this even was. 

Enjolras forgot, sometimes, that this was all in his head. That Grantaire hadn't actually done anything  _wrong_  last night. He got so caught up in his own mind that it was easy to forget that there was a world outside of it. 

The girl left after she'd eaten, and Enjolras was thankful. Éponine's words still made no sense to him, but with her gone he at least didn't have to think about them. 

When Grantaire came back into the kitchen from escorting the girl to the door, Éponine slapped him.

"What was that for?" he asked, bringing his hand to his cheek. 

"That's the last girl you're bringing back to this flat." She was staring him down, hands braced on the table. Azelma walked out of the room, pulling Gavroche's arm to take him with her. 

"You don't get to decide that!" Grantaire announced, throwing his hands into the air. "I live here too-"

"Yeah, well so do my kids!" Enjolras had never seen Éponine this angry. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen her angry at all, but this was intense. "My kids are the most important thing here, R, and you can't keep bringing cheap fucks home in the middle of the night. It's affecting them."

"Affecting them?" They grew up with  _your_ parents! Gav owns a baseball bat!"

"My  _parents?_ My parents had nothing to do with raising those kids and you know-"

Enjolras got up and left at this point. He felt uncomfortable being in the room while those two argued. He went straight to the kids' room, and found the two of them on Azelma's bed, Gavroche's head in Azelma's lap as she hummed. 

The two looked startled as he opened the door. Enjolras had never been in their room before, and it was probably weird to them that he was now. They looked up at him for a few seconds, wide-eyed, before he remembered he should probably say something.

"Do you two want to come to the shop with me? I want to make cookies, so we're going to need ingredients." It was an on-the-spot decision, but he knew that the best thing he could do right now was take the kids out of the situation and leave Éponine and Grantaire to bicker. The kids' faces turned from confusion to excitement, and Gavroche ran to get his shoes. 

They were out the door and down the stairs quicker than Enjolras had ever moved before. Gavroche was a whirlwind, moving around excitedly about ten yards ahead of Enjolras and Azelma the whole way to the shop. 

About halfway through the walk, Azelma turned to Enjolras.

"Why are you being so nice to us?" she asked. Enjolras was still a little scared of Azelma. Gavroche was easy to relate to and win over, but interacting with fourteen-year-old girls had never been something Enjolras found easy. 

"Why wouldn't I be nice to you?" he replied, taken aback by the question. It made him wonder what sort of people she'd encountered in the past, if it was a surprise that he was being kind.

"Usually it's only R and Éponine who are nice to us. Everyone else thinks we're trouble."

"You've been no trouble to me," he said, trying to put on the most comforting voice he could manage, "and I'll be nice to you for as long as I'm around." 

"Thanks," she smiled, and Enjolras was surprised when she stopped and gave him a quick side-hug. She pulled back quickly and walked fast to catch up with Gavroche after that. Enjolras smiled to himself. At least now he knew she didn't hate him.

Shopping with two children, as it turns out, is hectic. Enjolras pulled up a recipie for triple chocolate cookies on his phone and tried his best to stick to it, but it wasn't easy when Gavroche pulled ice lollies and small stuffed toys into the trolley every time he turned his back.

After saying "no" at least five times to various unnecessary things, Enjolras relented and told them both that they could have one thing each. He quickly realised he should have specified a price range when Gavroche came back with a trampoline in tow.

"We don't even have a garden," Enjolras said.

"I'll find somewhere for it to fit!"

"No, sorry. You can have something under £5. No trampolines."

Gavroche sulked as he pushed the box back through the aisles. Azelma chose a CD from some band he recognised from Bahorel's walls, and Gavroche returned with armfuls of sweets and a large grin on his face. Enjolras was sure that, had he counted, those sweets would add up to exactly £5. 

They gathered the other ingredients too, with blessedly little interruption from the kids, who were now satisfied with what they'd gathered. Enjolras thought he was beginning to get the hang of how to deal with kids. You solve the problem instead of trying to distract from it. That was what Grantaire did when he gave Gavroche money for the lunch at school, he was sure. He just had to be careful not to wander into the territory of spoiling them whenever they wanted anything. He didn't have the money for that.

The flat was quiet when they got back. Grantaire and Éponine were still inside, he knew, because the lights were on. There was blessedly little noise coming from inside, however. That meant that the argument was over. They moved over to the kitchen, where they found Éponine sitting at the table with a cup of tea in hand.

"You guys are back!" she smiled, leaning over and enveloping Azelma and Gavroche into a hug. 

"We weren't gone that long," Azelma laughed, huggging her back.

"Are you still mad at Grantaire?" Gavroche asked. His voice was a little muffled due to his mouth being pressed quite tightly to Éponine's shoulder. 

"No," she said, rubbing his back a little, "I'm not. He wants to talk to you though," she looked over at Enjolras, and he nodded in return.

"Is he in his room? I'll go now. Can you two get out the bake tray, a rolling pin, bowls, and some scales?"

"Uh- we don't have scales."

"Then we'll have to guess," Enjolras decided as he walked out of the room, and towards Grantaire's bedroom.

He found him sitting on the bed, phone in hand but not in use. It was pressed against his chin, and he stared at the wall beside the door.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras asked, and jumped a little when the man's focus fell on him.

"Hey," he smiled, looking a little like a dog with its tail between its legs.

"So... what was that all about?" Enjolras asked. Grantaire sighed.

"This is going to sound really stupid, but I got kinda... upset and mad at you for what you said yesterday."

"What I said...?"

"When you told Bossuet you were sleeping on my floor. When you lied."

Oh.

He hadn't even thought about how it would make Grantaire feel. He hadn't considered the other for a single second while lying to save himself from embarrassment. 

"I'm sorry..." he said, "I didn't realise."

"It's fine," Grantaire assured, "I just overreacted. I guess I thought you were ashamed to be sharing a bed with me, but I mean who wouldn't be-"

"Don't be stupid." Enjolras interrupted. "I wasn't ashamed. I'm homeless Grantaire, I don't have much shame left. I just... didn't want them to make jokes or anything."

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, Enjolras hovering near the doorway and Grantaire looking towards the floor.

"We're both dicks," Grantaire said eventually.

"Yeah, we are," Enjolras laughed in agreement. 

" _WHEN ARE WE MAKING COOKIES?"_ came a shout from the other room. It was Gavroche. Enjolras left the room swiftly, coming into the kitchen to see that the kid had opened all of the ingredients and started to make a mess with them. There was a trail of flour and sugar across the kitchen counter leading to where he was standing. 

"You were the one who wanted to bake cookies," Éponine said from the other side of the room, hands in the air, "you can deal with the mess,"

"Don't worry," Enjolras laughed, "it's just some flour. It'll sweep right up."

"Have fun," she smiled, ruffling Gavroche's hair before leaving the room.

Enjolras grabbed the various ingredients from where they'd been scattered. He left the mess for now, figuring it'd be easier to clean all of the mess at the same time, instead of cleaning both before and after baking. 

Azelma came into the room, her hair now in a ponytail. She came over to Gavroche and grabbed his head in her hands.

"Ow!" he shouted, swatting at her.

"I'm putting your hair up. I don't want hair in the cookies," she said as she pulled his hair into a bobble. Enjolras laughed for a moment before her gaze turned to him. "You too."

"I don't really think that's-"

"Gav has to, so you do too." He couldn't argue with that. He had much more hair than Gavroche.

She handed Enjolras a bobble, and he reluctantly tied up his hair in a very rudimentary way. Cosette had put his hair up many times in the past, but he couldn't remember ever doing it himself. 

"Looking sharp," came a voice from the other side of the room. Grantaire had walked in unannounced, and Enjolras had no idea how long he'd been stood there. He felt his cheeks burn as he thought about Grantaire seeing him with his hair tied up. 

Grantaire pushed a large mixing bowl aside to sit on the kitchen table. He was holding a sketchbook and some pencils. 

"Do you have to sit there?" Enjolras asked, shifting the bowl so it didn't fall off the table.

"Where else am I going to get a good enough view to draw you three?" he replied, intentionally nudging the bowl again with his foot. He reminded Enjolras of a cat knocking things off of counters to get attention.

His chest fluttered at the idea of Grantaire drawing him. Whenever Grantaire concentrated any attention on him, he couldn't help but get flustered. He tried to ignore it, and refocused on the baking. 

"Right, we need two hundred grams of chocolate chips," Enjolras began.

"Uh... I ate some of them. All of them," Gavroche confessed.

"This is exactly why I bought two bags and hid one from you."


	18. Seventeen

Enjolras got a job. He wasn't even sure how it happened, but he found himself swept up in phone calls, interviews and training days. It was nothing special, just a part-time barista gig, but it meant that he was contributing money towards his new household. He was no longer just the homeless guy who slept in Grantaire's bed. That's all he'd felt like for quite a while. It hadn't quite sunk in that he wasn't really homeless any more. He didn't have his own bed, no, but there was a roof over his head. Éponine seemed pretty happy to have him around and helping with the kids, and Grantaire didn't seem to care that there was an extra body in his bed every night. Maybe he did have a home again. And now he could help out.

The third income sent Éponine into overdrive. Over his time in her presence, Enjolras had come to see that she was more than a little unhappy with their current living arrangements. He wasn't surprised- sleeping on a sofa every night for god knows how long was nowhere near ideal. 

From the moment Enjolras got the confirmation of his employment, she started looking for somewhere new to live. The possibility of a new home brought a lot of questions- like how many bedrooms they should look for. 

"I want the kids to have their own rooms," she said one day, hunched over an aging laptop, "so we need at least three bedrooms."

"Make that four," Grantaire piped up. Enjolras's heart fell and his mind started racing, thinking about how Grantaire must be unhappy with the current situation and doesn't want to be around Enjolras any more and- "you deserve a room, Ép." 

Oh. Éponine. He felt awful that he hadn't even stopped to think about her in his paranoia. 

"I agree," he spoke up, if only to quash his guilt, "you can't keep sleeping on the sofa."

"I can look for five if you guys-" 

"Éponine. We're fine. I'm sure Enjolras can tolerate me for a little while longer," Grantaire joked.

Enjolras laughed. He could tolerate him for eternity.

-

"This place is tiny!" Courfeyrac yelled a few days later. He'd invited himself over for a grand tour of the flat, and neither Enjolras nor Grantaire had been bold enough to say no. He stood in the doorway, marvelling at the small interior as the two smirked at him, amused.

"How many people live here?" he said, looking over the collection of items strewn around the room.

"Five," Grantaire replied. Courfeyrac turned to him, a shocked look on his face.

" _Five?!_ Where does everyone sleep?"

"Well two of them are kids, and they have the back room," Enjolras said, waving an arm towards Gavroche and Azelma's room. "Éponine sleeps on the sofa, and me and Grantaire have the other room."

Courfeyrac looked intrigued. "How depressing's your bed then, Enj?" he asked, moving towards the door leading to Grantaire and Enjolras's room. Enjolras just watched, frozen, as he opened the door and peered inside. Grantaire made no attempt to move either.

Courfeyrac was still under the impression that Enjolras slept on Grantaire's floor. Even though the two had resolved the fallout from that lie, they still hadn't told the others it wasn't true. Enjolras still felt uncomfortable with the idea of telling them, Grantaire had made no indication that he wanted him to. The both of them seemed comfortable living a lie.

Which is why he didn't know what to say when Courfeyrac looked around the bedroom, turned back, and said a little deflatedly "there's nothing on the floor. I though there was gonna be like a... nest of blankets..." his voice trailed off a little at the end. Enjolras tried to ignore it.

"Yeah, I put my bed away in the mornings. Stops the room being too cluttered," he said. Courfeyrac turned, an eyebrow raised.

"Right. So why are both sides of the bed messy?"

Enjolras felt his heart stop at Courfeyrac's words. He had no explanation or excuses ready for this line of questioning. He just stared blankly, mouth agape, unsure how to fix the situation.

Courfeyrac made a face, as if to say ' _not my business'_ , raising his hands into the air. "Well," he said, "be safe, kids."

"That's not what-" Grantaire started, before Courfeyrac interrupted with a finger to his lips and a knowing look.

Enjolras still wasn't sure what to think, or do. His heartrate had gone from a complete stop to skipping into overdrive. Not only did he still not know what Courfeyrac had thought about the kiss with Jehan at the bar, now he thought he was  _fucking Grantaire._  What if he talked about it to the others? He still hadn't gotten over his dumb crush, he didn't know what he would do if the idea of him and Grantaire together was brought to the attention of his friends.

There wasn't much time to worry over Courfeyrac's assumptions, because at that moment the front door hit the wall with a bang and Gavroche walked in, a suspicious lump under his shirt.

"Gav," Grantaire asked, walking towards the kid slowly, "what have you got?"

"Is Éponine home?" was the only response he got, the lump under Gavroche's shirt shifting a little.

"No, she went to the shop. Why...?"

Gavroche sat on the ground, and let go of the bottom of his shirt. A cat emerged from underneath it, with all the grace one would expect from a distressed animal.

"Is that a cat?" Courfeyrac asked, pointing.

"No, I think it's a warthog," Enjolras replied, turning his head towards Courfeyrac and smirking at his own joke.

"Gav, who's cat is that?" Grantaire asked, stroking the animal in what appeared to be an attempt to calm it down.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "I found him outside. He looked hungry."

In all fairness, the cat did look quite hungry. It was skinny and bedraggled, ribs visible through the fur.

"I'll get it something to eat," Enjolras offered, standing up and walking into the kitchen. He'd never had a cat before, and didn't really know what they were supposed to eat. Meat, he guessed. He grabbed a packed of precooked chicken and brought it back into the main living area.

"-can't just keep him, Gav."

"Sure we can! He's a stray, he doesn't have an owner!"

"We can't just take in strays from the street."

"What about Enjolras?"

"Ouch," Enjolras laughed, placing the packed of chicken on the floor next to the cat. It let out a small meow and began to bite the plastic packaging.

"Enjolras is a person, and my friend. This is a cat."

"He's my friend." Gavroche wasn't backing down. Enjolras could tell that Grantaire wasn't going to win.

"I don't see why he can't stay for a little while..." Enjolras offered, trying to find the middle ground. He wasn't that comfortable with animals, but he also didn't want this argument to last the next three hours.

"Let him stay, R!" Courfeyrac chimed in, coming over to pet the cat. His outburst turned into him and Gavroche chanting "let him stay, let him stay, let him stay." For two people who had never met before, Gavroche and Courfeyrac got on surprisingly well.

"What'll we tell Éponine?" Grantaire asked, running a hand through his hair. It was clear he wanted to say yes, but wasn't sure if it was the best idea.

"That you have a cat now," Courfeyrac said definitively.

Grantaire couldn't argue with that.

-

"Cats need  _things,_ Enj. We can't have a cat without cat stuff!"

"Why does that mean I have to help you pick them out?" Enjolras asked, arms crossed as he sat in the passenger seat of Grantaire's car. He wasn't as grumpy as he was pretending to be, but he was too dramatic to be co-operative.

"Because it's  _fun._ I'm sure Courfeyrac can look after Gavroche and a cat."

"That or they'll burn down the flat twice as fast together,"

"Stop stressing. Everything is fine."

The drive to the pet store was peaceful. Grantaire had the radio on low and was humming along to it, accentuating with air drums occasionally, making Enjolras a little worried that he would crash the car. They eventually got to the store unscathed, and Grantaire dragged Enjolras inside.

He'd never really seen Grantaire around animals before. The smile that appeared on his face when he ran towards a selection of rabbits made Enjolras's heart hurt.

"They're so cute..." he mumbled under his breath, leaning over the barrier to peer into the small enclosure. "Can we get a rabbit?"

"We only just got a cat," Enjolras laughed, trying to pull him away from the rabbits. Grantaire fawning over them was so cute that he almost didn't want to, would rather stay here all day and watch him be happy. But Éponine would get home soon and they really didn't need her to find her little brother, a cat, and an almost-stranger alone in her flat without context. 

"What do cats even need?" Enjolras aired. His experience with animals was appallingly non-existant. 

"Food. A litter tray. Toys.  _Lots_ of toys," Grantaire listed off, picking random things from shelves as they went. The basket Enjolras had grabbed by the door was quickly filled with an assortment of brightly-coloured objects. 

"What about a bed?" he asked. "It needs somewhere to sleep, right?" Grantaire nodded, grabbing what appeared to be a blue tent made of soft fabric from a high shelf. 

"He definitely needs somewhere to sleep."

"Do we know it's a he?" Enjolras asked. He hadn't seen anyone check, and he could only assume Gavroche hadn't done so before bringing it home.

"Don't question his identity. He's valid."


	19. Eighteen

He couldn't really believe it when he heard her say it. 

They'd been looking for a flat for almost two weeks now. He'd gotten comfortable living with Éponine, Grantaire and the kids, and was beginning to consider this tiny flat his home. There was just one problem though- it really was  _tiny._ There was hardly any room to move around without bumping into somebody or their stuff. He can't imagine it had been spacious before he arrived, but now both he and the cat had joined this little family they just didn't fit in the flat any more.

Their issue was money. Éponine had a full-time job as a receptionist for a posh hotel that paid well, and that was their only real source of money. Both Grantaire and Enjolras had part-time jobs, but neither made anything near what Éponine did. It made sense, now, why she'd dropped out of college once she turned eighteen. There was no way she would have been able to keep up with her education while working and looking after her siblings, and bringing in enough money on top of that. 

The rent they paid now was extortionate. Fifteen hundred a month for a two-bedroom flat that didnt even cover utilities. They were left with just over four hundred pounds a month after bills, which sounded like a lot until you have to spread it over five people, two of which are children. A good chunk of that money came from Éponine's child benefit payments for her siblings. They were essentially trapped unless they could find somewhere bigger, for less than they paid now. 

So with this in mind, when Éponine came into the living room one morning, hair askew and shirt unironed, and announced that they were moving, he almost thought it was a joke.

"You found a place already?" Grantaire asked, sounding shocked. They'd been sitting with the kids and watching TV, Enjolras braiding Azelma's hair and Grantaire making sure Gavroche wasn't too rough with the cat they'd now named Baguette.

"I think so," she said, sitting down on the pink pouffe next to the sofa, "I booked a viewing for today. They're really eager to find somebody quickly- they had someone back out of a contract, and they need the money. It's perfect- closer to college, and the school, there's four bedrooms. The kids can have one each and I can finally get off the sofa."

"How much is it?" Enjolras asked, bracing himself for the number. Closer to college and the kids' school meant that this new flat was further into the nicer area of the city, and with two extra bedrooms there was surely going to be a hike in price. Their shared bank balance was going to take a sizeable hit, he reckoned. 

Éponine sat up straighter, a smirk on her face. "It's one two-fifty," she said, unable to hide a grin. 

"Are you serious?" Grantaire asked, leaning forward, eyes wide in disbelief. 

"Yeah," she said, nodding, "and even better- it's a house." 

"A house!?" they said in unison, shock evident in their voices. Enjolras tugged on Azelma's hair a little by accident, and he patted her head to try and apologise. 

"We're going to see it in an hour. Cosette's going to come over and watch these two."

"Cosette?" Enjolras asked. He didn't know the two knew eachother.

"Hey, I have friends of my own y'know," Éponine joked.

-

It was... a house. 

It was a very redundant thing to think, having known that he was going to see a house for an hour or so already. But it was still surreal to turn up here and see in front of him... a house. A house that he could very possibly be living in not long from now.

It had a front garden and everything. Not a very large one, the city wasn't quite residential enough for that, but there was still a small rectangle of grass and fencing standing guard by the front door.

"Before we go in," Eponine said, turning around in her seat to face him. They were still sitting in Grantaire's car, having stopped and gaped for a few moments. He'd been right- the house was much further in to the nice area of the city than they'd lived before. 

"What?" Enjolras asked. Both Éponine and Grantaire were looking at him nervously. 

"We're gonna have to act a little... weird. Just play along, okay?" They both began getting out of the car, seemingly not bothering to elaborate on their vauge disclaimer.

"Weird how?" he asked, following them and getting out. They didn't answer, just walked towards the front door. Grantaire knocked. Enjolras caught up to them, and watched as Éponine slipped on a ring and hooked her arm with Grantaire's.

The door swung open, and the three were met with the smiling face of an elderly woman. 

"Hello," she greeted, "You must be Éponine and Grantaire! How lovely to meet you!"  Her voice carried a sickly sweet tone that Enjolras was sure was fake. She stepped back and gestured with her arm to let them in, and Éponine and Grantaire stepped inside. Enjolras followed awkwardly, unsure what was happening. 

"And who's this?" the woman asked, peering at Enjolras.

"Oh, this is our good friend Enjolras," Éponine explained, still clinging tightly to Grantaire's arm. "We're thinking of making him best man."

Enjolras was well and truly confused. He didn't say anything, however, remembering their words from earlier. He just smiled, and offered his hand for the old woman to shake. 

"So, the house!" Grantaire said, and Enjolras thanked him silently for taking the attention away from him. The woman began walking around the room, talking about how the previous owners had left in a hurry and the people who were supposed to replace them backed out of the contract. 

"Are you sure this place isn't haunted?" Enjolras joked, looking around. They seemed to be in the living room, and there was a staircase opposite the front door. Enjolras was glad to see stairs inside of a house again, instead of them being the barrier to him getting to his home. There was a door at the back of the living room that he assumed lead to the kitchen, and he could see through to a glass sliding door right at the back of the house- one that lead to a garden. 

He hadn't thought about it before, but Gavroche and Azelma didn't have a garden to play in. His back garden had been such an important and integral part of his childhood, and he couldn't imagine growing up without him. It was such a small thing, but made him realise just how lucky he had been in the first portion of his life compared to these kids. He still didn't know what had happened to them, and why they lived with Éponine and not their parents, but he figured it had to have been bad. 

Éponine and Grantaire acted strange the whole time they looked at the house. She stayed on his arm, and they stood closer than he'd ever seen any two people stand. He even kissed her cheek occasionally. And as hard as Enjolras tried, he couldn't quite quell the jealousy that tore through him at the sight of it. Of Éponine leaning against Grantaire and him lapping up the affection. Of the two of them acting like a  _couple_. He still didn't even know why they were doing it. All he wanted was to break the two of them apart, to put himself in her place. It took all of his willpower not to start hating Éponine a little for recieving the affection he so desperately craved from Grantaire. He'd gotten comfortable with sleeping next to him and seeing his dumb face every day, and such a stark reminder that they weren't  _actually_ together hurt. 

Thankfully, the viewing didn't last too long. They went through each room individually, and the house was exactly what they needed. There were two similar-sized bedrooms where Enjolras and Grantaire and Éponine could sleep  _("we thought it'd be nice to have a guest bedroom," Grantaire had lied)_  and the two rooms where the kids would sleep were also nicely sized. Gavroche's mountain of stuff would be able to be kept in his room instead of littered throughout the whole house like it was currently. 

They signed the contract then and there. The woman asked for a two hundred pound deposit, which Éponine produced from her coat pocket. She'd worked overtime to earn it. They were lucky that the woman hadn't wanted a full month's rent in advance, something that was apparently common, according to Grantaire. Enjolras had never had to rent a house before, so he didn't know these things. 

It was finalised. They were moving. They had a house. 

They piled back into the car, and Éponine had a huge smile on her face. 

"That was unbelievable," she said, staring straight out the windscreen, "it should not have been this easy for us."

"Someone really wants us to get this house," Grantaire laughed. He buckled his seatbelt and turned on the engine. 

Enjolras still hadn't been told why they'd pretended to be a couple while viewing the house. Or why they neglected to tell the woman that Enjolras was going to be living there too. The whole situation made him uncomfortable, and he was glad that they'd gone back to normal now. Éponine had even taken the ring off. 

"You have make-up in your stubble, by the way," she laughed, licking her finger and rubbing it against the afflicted skin.

"Gerroff me, that's so gross," he laughed, shooing her away with a hand, "bad enough you kissed my cheek in the first place." 

She stuck her tongue out in response, and the two broke down laughing. 

"What was that all about, any way?" Enjolras asked, after they'd calmed down. He didn't want to kill their fun, but he really was confused. Éponine turned around to face him again. 

"It's a trick we learned when the social workers first started visiting me and Grantaire. They didn't like the idea of two friends co-parenting kids, and kept asking what would happen when one of us got a partner. So we started pretending we were dating, and it worked. Now we do it whenever we want important people to respect us more, or be nicer to us. I told the landlady of this house that we were engaged childhood sweet-hearts," she explained, "that's also kind of why we had to pretend you weren't going to live there too. Sorry about that." 

He had to admit it made sense. It was easy to see how people were more likely to be sympathetic to an engaged couple caring for two kids as opposed to a trio of single friends, one of whom was incredibly gay and crushing on another whose favourite pasttime was intoxicated promiscuity. 

"I get it," he nodded, "it's fine. A better heads up would've been great, though."

-

Moving day came swiftly. They hired the cheapest van they could find, and packed everything up into boxes. It was emotional, seeing the cluttered house be slowly packed away and rendered near-empty. After everything else was gone and Grantaire and Enjolras took the sofa out and into the van, the living room looked decievingly big. Everywhere did. Even Gavroche and Azelma's room, which had previously felt almost like walking into a closet with how little space the two had, seemed so much bigger now. He couldn't help but feel sad, walking through the flat he'd swiftly come to see as his home and seeing it gutted. He hadn't lived there very long, but he was still attached. He was definitely going to miss it. 

Éponine and Azelma drove to the new house in the van, electing to start setting things up as early as possible. Gavroche, Grantaire and Enjolras did one last sweep of the old flat, saying goodbye to each room and making sure they didn't leave anything behind. 

"Are you sad about moving out, Gav?" Enjolras asked, leaning down to the kid's height. 

"Nah," he said, pulling out two kitchen drawers a little more aggressively than necessary, "we're gonna live in a house! I'm gonna have my own room! I've never had my own room before!" 

"Never?" Enjolras asked, looking at the kid in confusion. Living with Gavroche and Azelma made him realise just how privileged he'd been growing up with parents who were relatively financially comfortable.

"Well I didn't have a bed at mum and dad's house, I just slept with the dogs. And then when I went to foster care there were like five other boys in the same room, and-"

"I think Enjolras has heard enough, Gavroche," Grantaire said, ushering the kid out of the room. Enjolras stayed in place, watching the doorway they'd left through in shock. He'd still never found out what had happened to the others, and how they'd all ended up living independantly like this. That was the first he had heard of the Thénardier kids' past, and it broke his heart. He couldn't imagine Gavroche sleeping with dogs because he had nowhere else. It made him angry, and Enjolras had to remind himself that he was already in a better place, and that everything was okay for him now.

They said one last farewell to the flat, and climbed into the car, driving away to their new home. A new start for their new family.

When they arrived, Éponine and Azelma had been busy setting up some of the easier-to-move furniture. The kitchen was almost completely set up, with the old table and chairs at one end and the cupboards filled with the food they'd brought from the old house. The coffee table and TV were in the living room, but the sofa and was too heavy for Azelma to lift and so had beeen left in the van. The house had really taken shape, and was beginning to resemble a home more each second. 

"This is incredible," Enjolras muttered to himself, marvelling at where he could now say he lived.

Éponine backed into the front door and that moment, carrying one side of the sofa. Grantaire had the other, and was helping her bring it inside. Enjolras couldn't help but watch Grantaire's muscles through his shirt as he carried the heavy object. He wasn't sure when he had time to work on his muscles, but they were definitely there. Grantaire's shirt rode up a little at the bottom, and Enjolras couldn't take his eyes away.

"Enjolras!" Éponine called, and he snapped his head to face her. He could feel his cheeks burning scarlet as he realised he'd been caught. "Could you grab the box that says  _'living room'_  from the van please?" He sighed in relief at the fact that she wasn't calling him out on staring at Grantaire. Ever since the night where he'd been kicked out of bed and Éponine said she knew about his crush and told him not to be an idiot regarding Grantaire, he'd been wary of her. He didn't want for her to announce his feelings in front of him, or make it obvious at all. Not that Enjolras was that great at subtlety anyway.

He brought the box in, and passed it over to Éponine. As he did so, she leaned in and whispered in his ear.

" _Less ogling, more working. Get to it."_ A blush crept back up his cheeks again as she walked out of the room. 

They worked for hours setting everything up, and the final room that had to be done was Azelma's. Éponine and Gavroche had left to find a pizza shop to order from, leaving Grantaire, Enjolras, and Azelma to sort everything out. They'd worked in a content silence for a while before Azelma spoke up.

"Grantaire, is Enjolras your boyfriend?" she looked at him wide-eyed, wating for an answer.

Grantaire, who was midway through taking a sip of water, choked. Enjolras was getting flashbacks to when Gavroche had asked him that exact question and he had reacted in the same way. 

Spluttering, Grantaire managed to reply. "No, no he's not why- why are you asking?"

She was smiling smugly. "Gav asked Enjolras and he choked too. You sleep in the same bed."

"That doesn't mean we're dating," Enjolras chimed in, trying to make the situation at least slightly better. He didn't want to overreact too much, however, in case it came off as overly-defensive. 

"You could've asked Éponine to look for a house with enough rooms, but you didn't. That means you wanted to keep sharing a bed." Enjolras was beginning to curse how smart Azelma was for a fourteen year old. With Gavroche, it had been easy to brush off. Azelma seemed less eager to back down. 

"A four bedroom house is cheaper than a five bedroom one, Zel," Grantaire tried his best to reason with her. 

"If you say so," Azelma said, making it clear through her tone that she still did not believe them. 


	20. Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was *supposed* to be a fluff chapter. it turned into something... else.
> 
> cw for discussion of drug use, parental neglect, and death
> 
> yea its that kinda chapter now

He woke up to the smell of bacon. Enjolras was confused for a moment, forgetting the events of the past month or so. He thought he was back at his parent's house, in his bed, waking up to the smell of his mother cooking breakfast. It was only when he opened his eyes and saw the light blue walls of his and Grantaire's new room that he remembered where he was. The sadness he used to feel upon remembering wasn't there. He didn't yearn to be 'home' any more- he already was.

The space beside him in bed was empty, the duvet pushed back. Enjolras sat up, swung his legs over the bed and put his dressing gown on, walking out of the bedroom. 

He loved having stairs again, but it was difficult getting used to them. He'd become accustomed to exiting Grantaire's bedroom and immediately seeing the living room and kitchen- this wasn't something he could do here. He walked down the stairs slowly, inadvertantly making a lot of noise. The smell of bacon got stronger the closer to the kitchen he got, and Enjolras continued to follow it. He could hear music now, too.

He entered the kitchen to see Grantaire there, wearing an apron despite being shirtless, a frying pan in one hand as he fried bacon. He was singing along to the radio, too, and didn't notice as Enjolras walked through the door. He stood there for a moment, just watching him bob his head and sing energetically as he cooked. 

He turned around after a moment or so, carrying the frying pan over to a plate on the countertop. He stopped suddenly as he saw Enjolras leaning back against the doorframe, arms crossed and watching him. 

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" he asked, a sheepish grin on his face.

"If I say yes, will you give me free bacon?" Enjolras asked in return. 

"The bacon was for you anyway..." he admitted, lowering his head as his grin widened and he slid bacon onto the plate.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Aren't I always nice to you?"

"Not this nice." Grantaire took more bacon from a packet next to the hob, dropping it into the frying pan. The oil spat at him and he jumped back, cursing. 

"I just... woke up feeling happy today, I don't know. Today feels like a good day. It's sunny." Grantaire was still bopping his head to the music as he moved the bacon around in the pan. 

Enjolras couldn't really argue with that. It  _was_ sunny. He sat down at the kitchen table and watched as Grantaire continued to cook. He couldn't help but feel his heart swell with love for him. Since he'd moved in with him, he was fairly sure his crush on Grantaire had gotten deeper, and worse. He was definitely head-over-heels for the man now, if he hadn't been before. 

Grantaire finished cooking, and brought two plates of bacon over to the table where Enjolras was sat. There was a loaf of bread, a tub of margarine, and a bottle of ketchup already set up there. Grantaire set one plate down in front of Enjolras and one in front of himself, and began constructing his own bacon butty. Enjolras did the same, mirroring him. This was the first time Grantaire had ever cooked for him, and he wasn't sure why it had happened, but he wasn't going to question it. Enjolras was enjoying the attention and feeling special. 

They migrated to the sofa after finishing breakfast. They both had a day off from college and work, Éponine was at her job and the kids had school, which meant they had the house to themselves all day. The best way to spend a free day, of course, was in front of the TV. The only issue was that daytime television isn't particularly interesting

They were both lying back on the sofa, shoulders and arms pressed together as they watched what had to be the third episode of  _The Jeremy Kyle Show_  now, when Enjolras aired a question that had been burning in the back of his mind for a while now.

"How did you all end up here?"

"What do you mean?" Grantaire asked. Enjolras had a feeling that he knew, he just wanted to play ignorant for a little while longer.

"You and Éponine, and the kids... why do none of you live with your parents? And what did Gavroche mean when he said he had to sleep with dogs?"

Grantaire was silent for a moment. Enjolras hoped he hadn't accidentally upset him. 

Grantaire took a deep breath, and started to explain. "Me and Éponine have been friends for... a long time. Probably since birth, honestly. Our parents were good friends, which is in no way a good thing. My parents had a penchant for narcotics and uh... the Thénardiers were their dealers. Whenever they were craving for a fix it was  _'why don't we go see Éponine?'_ and then I'd have to hide with her in her bedroom while they got high."

"Shit," Enjolras said conclusively. 

"Yeah. It wasn't the best childhood. Then Azelma came along, and Éponine became her psuedo mother because the real one couldn't be fucked. No five year old should have to do that, y'know? And then it just got worse when they had Gav... she was eight or nine years old, trying to look after two kids on her own and avoid her drug dealer parents at all costs. They didn't buy anything for them. Éponine stole money from her parents to get them clothes. That's why Gav said about not having a bed- they just never bothered to buy him one, so he slept in the dogs' beds. They cared for those dogs more than they did their own kids. The only reason those three went to school was to keep the government off their backs"

"I have a question..." Enjolras said, uncertain if now was the right time to ask or not. Grantaire made a 'go ahead' gesture. "Éponine and Azelma, they're black. Gavroche-"

"Isn't, yeah." Grantaire interrupted. "They don't really know why. Their mum was white, though, so the leading theory is that she cheated on their dad and that's how Gavroche came to exist. Their dad never seemed to notice he looked nothing like him. Or maybe he just didn't care."

"Was?" Enjolras asked. Grantaire looked at him, confused. "Was. You said their mum  _was_ white. Is she not...?"

"I'm getting to that. Éponine and my parents were just getting worse, continually. They definitely had it worse than I did, though. Even though they were addicts, my parents still gave at least a little bit of a shit about me. They were at her house most of the time though, so her and the kids would spend a lot of time at mine."

Grantaire paused for a moment. Enjolras could see him preparing for what he was about to say, and he kept quiet. The two of them had sank even further down the sofa, and by this point his head was resting on Grantaire's shoulder. He tried not to dwell on it too much. He didn't want it to distract him from the story being told. 

"It was five years ago. Maybe a little more. My parents and hers, they got high in the afternoon. They took too much. It was time to come pick me up from school, and they took the car... my mum crashed it. She wrapped the front of the car round a tree trunk. A branch came through the windscreen and killed my parents. Éponine's mom was in the back, and she wasn't wearing a seatbelt. She died too..." 

"I'm sorry," Enjolras said. There wasn't really anything else he could say. He was rethinking everything he'd ever thought about Grantaire- and wondering how on earth he'd known him for five years without knowing that he was an orphan. 

Five years. 

He'd known Grantaire five years. 

_"It was five years ago"._

"Is... is that why you moved schools? Because of your parents?" At the time, Grantaire had told everyone who would listen that he'd been kicked out for setting a food tech room on fire. It made a lot more sense now, if that wasn't the case. 

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "They put me in foster care, and the group home I went to was too far away from my school. So, they moved me. They put me in the same school as Éponine because of collective trauma, or something. Said it'd be good for me to be near her. I was just glad I wasn't going to be alone in a new school." 

"This is all so awful," Enjolras said. He hesitantly brought one of his arms around to embrace Grantaire, trying to show support for him. He knew his words weren't enough. "I can't believe I've known you this whole time, and didn't know."

"I didn't want you to know," he said, "I didn't want anybody to know. I wanted it to be something I dealt with in silence. I just wanted to be normal, y'know?"

"Yeah," Enjolras agreed. Weirdly, he did know. It was exactly the same way he felt when his parents kicked him out- he wanted to fake being fine around other people, in some attempt to trick himself into believing he  _was_ fine. "I've felt that way too."

They sat in silence for a while, Enjolras's head on Grantaire's shoulder and his arms around him. He was still thinking through everything Grantaire had just told him. He still didn't know how they'd came to live together, but now everything made a lot more sense.

After a few minutes of silence, Grantaire spoke up again.

"They arrived a few years after I did," he began. "Matted hair, raggy clothes, not even a suitcase between them. It was just chance that they came to the same place as me. But one day I open my bedroom door and there's Éponine, with two little heads hiding behind her. Their house had been raided for drugs and they took the kids away. That's how we ended up being this... weird little family. I had a room on my own because I was the oldest, and they all used to sleep in it with me. The workers hated it, rooms were supposed to be seperated by gender, but they couldn't stop them."

"I can't believe all of this happened to you and none of us knew..." Enjolras felt bad that Grantaire had been suffering through this without anybody knowing. He could see now why he acted so recklessly, drank so much and went through women like money. Grantaire didn't really know how to be a good adult. He'd never had a role model for one. 

"It doesn't really bother me all that much any more," he said, shifting slightly on the sofa and bringing his arms around Enjolras, "it's been so long that it's all just... in the background. My parents are dead and that's my life."

"When did you move into the other flat?"

"It was all down to Éponine, really. She turned eighteen before me, and they moved her into a halfway house. I remember the day she left, she kicked off. She wanted to take the kids with her, but of course they wouldn't let her. She dropped out of college and got that receptionist job. The manager of the hotel is the sister of one of the care workers, so it was a quick employment. She started earning money, and saving it all in a bank. I kept looking after the kids at the group home like I'd been doing while she was still there. I got a job too, but only a part-time one. I had to stay in college because I was still underage. When I was nearing eighteen, and they were trying to make preparations for me to go to a halfway house too, we managed to find the flat. It was expensive, but it was avaliable and we had the money. So we got it. We had no furniture or anything, but it was a place to live. We slept on the floor under a blanket for the first few weeks until we could afford the sofa, then eventually a bed. We just bought everything as we could afford it, and filled our little home with everything we needed. We bought things for the kids too... Éponine was determined not to let them stay there, or be fostered out. She didn't want to lose those kids."

"I can't see why anyone would want to," Enjolras said, "if she raised them on her own, why would she want them taken away from her?"

"Exactly," Grantaire agreed. "We even bought beds for them before Éponine. That's how she ended up staying on the sofa for so long. We kept going back to the social workers and trying to tell them how much we wanted to have the kids with us. That's how the fake-dating thing started, too. We figured out that they had more respect for us as a couple than they would as two co-parenting teenage flatmates. So we pretended we were together, and kissed government's arses for months. One day they turned up for a 'surprise visit', and the kids were with them. Me and Éponine had just finished cleaning up, and we were sitting watching TV and eating cookies. I guess they figured it was a safe enough place for them to be, and that we weren't any harm. Gavroche also refused to leave after getting hugs and eating all of our cookies. That probably helped."

"So they just... dropped them off suddenly? Isn't that a violation of some sort of child protection law?"

"Most likely, yeah. But the guy was tired as fuck and Gavroche was kicking up a fuss, I think he just didn't care any more. He left them with us for a week and then checked back in. They were fine, we signed paperwork, and they gave us custody. And that's how we ended up the way we were when you came along."

"I don't really know what to say..." Enjolras murmured, rubbing a thumb against Grantaire's side. "I'm just... it's incredible that you went through all of that, all of you, and you seem so... happy. When you're not getting blackout drunk and into barfights."

"Hey, there was only one barfight. And I don't really think it counts as a fight if I only walked away with a broken nose."

"No, you're right, he totally should have broken your legs instead."


	21. Twenty

"Wake the fuck up, boys!" was the first thing Enjolras heard the next morning. His legs and arms felt stiff, and he had a crick in his neck. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he could tell by the sleep in his eyes that he'd been out for some time. 

"The hell, Éponine..." he heard Grantaire grumble from next to him. He felt a body shift around him, and opened his eyes to find himself staring up at Grantaire. 

"Good morning, sleepy-heads," she said, looking them over with a smirk. He and Grantaire were still cuddled up on the sofa, and he could guess that they'd fallen asleep there. He could feel Grantaire's arms wrapped around his waist, and from the way he was sat he had been asleep with his head still resting on his shoulder. They'd gotten even closer in their sleep. He didn't think he'd ever been so intimate with Grantaire. His stomach fluttered and chest tightened. He was embarrassed to have Éponine find them like this. He knew she knew about his crush on Grantaire, and he didn't want her to make it obvious or tease him for it.

"How long have we been asleep?" Enjolras asked, blinking rapidly to try and wake himself up.

"You were already out when I got home from work. It's ten am now so... a good seventeen hours, I'd say."

"I think that's longer than I've ever slept in my life," Grantaire joked. He moved his hands from where they sat around Enjolras and stretched them in the air. 

"Wait," Enjolras said, looking up at Éponine, "You said it's ten am?"

"Yeah..." she said, confused. Enjolras jumped, getting up from the sofa quickly and knocking Grantaire in the process. He ran past Éponine, hurrying up the stairs and towards his and Grantaire's bedroom.

"What's gotten into him?" she asked, looking up the stairs. 

"No clue," Grantaire said, pulling the blanket from the back of the sofa and settling back in to sleep.

Enjolras was late. Enjolras was  _very_ late. He was supposed to start work an hour ago, but his accidental nap with Grantaire had made him sleep through that. He was an hour late and getting later every moment he wasted at home. He grabbed new clothes and changed quickly. He needed to leave the house as soon as possible. Thankfully, the new house was only a few minutes' walk from the coffee shop he worked in, and so he hopefully wouldn't be much later than he already was. 

He turned quickly, and his elbow hit the backpack he'd left on their bed, the one that contained the more sentimental items he'd packed before he left his parents' house. It tipped and fell, spilling its contents out all over the bedroom floor. 

"I don't have time for this shit right now," Enjolras cursed as grabbed his wallet and keys, leaving the room in a rush. 

Éponine and Grantaire were still in the same spot in the living room, watching Enjolras with curiosity as he ran down the stairs and towards the front door. 

"I'm late for work!" he shot behind him, going out the door and leaving the house without another word.

"Well that was interesting..." Éponine said. Grantaire mumbled incoherently in response.

Enjolras made it to work a few moments later, heart pounding in his chest and lungs on the verge of collapse. He weaved through customers to make his way behind the counter, hurrying into the back room to wash his hands and collect his apron. 

"Enjolras. You're late," his manager barked. He was standing in the middle of the back room, looking down at a watch with a scowl on his face. "An hour and twenty minutes late, to be exact."

"I'm sorry, Nick," he apologised, "I had a... family emergency. It won't happen again." 

"That's right. It won't. And I would have appreciated a phone call." 

Enjolras apologised again, and his manager left the room. He put on his apron, clocked in, washed his hands, and came back out into the main serving area.

There was a cough from his left hand side, and he turned to see who needed serving. He was surprised to see Cosette standing there, a five pound note in her hand and a smile on her face. 

"Where've you been, stranger?" she asked, looking him over. Since moving in with Grantaire and Éponine, he hadn't seen Cosette very often. The last time he'd seen her was a brief few moments when she arrived to watch the kids for Éponine while they went to view the house.

"Working, being a third parent, trying my best to stay not-homeless," he joked, grabbing a cup and starting Cosette's drink. He'd never served her before, but they'd got coffee together so many times he knew her order by heart. 

"How is everything in the Thénardier household? Is that why you're late?" She was teasing him, like she always did. Cosette loved ruining Enjolras's life. 

"Good. It's good. Azelma's fourteen, so it's not hard to deal with her. Gav can be difficult but there's ways to make him behave. They usually involve chocolate. I swear that kids bloodstream is seventy percent cocoa by now."

"And with the others...?" she was tipping her head forward, looking up at him suggestively. He could tell exactly what she was trying to get him to talk about, but he refused to play ball.

"Éponine is really nice. I thought she'd dislike having an almost-stranger living with her, but we get along really well. I think she's happy for the extra income, too." Enjolras finished making Cosette's drink, sliding it across the counter and taking the fiver from her hands. He got her change while she continued to push her luck.

"And Grantaire...?"

"Yeah, he gets along well with Éponine too. They've been friends a long time."

"You're such a dick, that is not what I mean."

"Okay, yes, fine," he sighed, having had his fun winding her up. "I live with Grantaire. I sleep in his bed. I'm probably in fucking love with him. We fell asleep cuddling on the sofa yesterday and that's why I was late this morning." 

She looked back at him with a smile on her face. "That is the gayest thing you have ever said to me." 

He was about to argue that it hadn't been long since he'd come out, and there weren't many gay things he  _had_ said to her, when someone in the queue behind Cosette started to tut. Cosette rushed an apology and moved to the side, sitting at the breakfast bar chairs on the left hand side of the counter. 

The rest of the work day went by quickly for Enjolras. Cosette stayed for a while, but had to leave soon so she didn't distract him from work. Enjolras enjoyed working as a barista. He saw the same few faces often, and most people were friendly and willing to talk for a few moments while they waited for their coffee. It was a very peaceful job, and he was glad that he'd found it. He'd have to make sure he wasn't late again, because he certainly didn't want to lose it. They may have found a cheaper place to live, but that didn't mean he could lose a chunk of their household income. 

He started to make his way home just after three o'clock. He'd been working for six hours, with only a short break in the middle. He was tired and most definitely hungry. He couldn't wait to get home, make himself a sandwich, and settle in to the sofa again. 

The house was quiet when he opened the door. He knew Éponine and Grantaire should both have been home, and the kids would likely get out of school soon. They'd started walking to and from school now that they lived so much closer, and it meant that they wouldn't have to buy more petrol so often. 

The house was too quiet for them to be home. The living room was empty, and he couldn't hear any sound coming from the kitchen. 

"Hello?" Enjolras said, trying for a response. None came, and he walked further through the house. As he thought, the kitchen was empty. He opened the sliding door and looked out into the back garden, but there was nobody there either. 

It was strange, for the house to be so empty in the middle of the day. He was used to noise and at least the slightest hint of chaos. Peace in their household was seldom found. 

He approached the stairs and started to ascend, trying to find out just where the others were. It was entirely possible that Gavroche and Azelma just hadn't reached home yet, but for Éponine and Grantaire to be gone was odd. 

He looked around the landing at the top of the stairs. The doors to both kids' rooms were open, and he couldn't see anybody inside. 

He heard a shuffle coming from inside his and Grantaire's room. He pushed the door open slowly, looking around it and into the room. 

Inside he saw Grantaire, sitting cross-legged on their bed and looking down at a piece of paper he was holding in his hands. He hadn't noticed Enjolras come in, or if he had he hadn't reacted. Enjolras walked a little closer, tentatively. There was a strange atmosphere in the room, and he wasn't sure what was happening. 

"You kept it," Grantaire said, still looking down at the piece of paper. It was tilted towards Grantaire, and Enjolras still couldnt see what was on it. 

"Kept what...?" he asked, walking forward a little more. He came to sit down on the end of the bed, about a foot away from where Grantaire was sitting. He didn't want to come too close in case something was wrong. 

"This," he said, turning the paper over and handing it to Enjolras. 

It was a drawing of a penguin. The same one Grantaire had handed to him during an English Literature lesson that felt like it had happened years ago, now. He looked at the bees, and the speech bubble saying "bee-autiful", and he felt his heart melt. This was something Grantaire had drawn for him, probably without a second thought, that he'd kept. He'd kept many of Grantaire's mindless drawing throughout the years, but this was the most recent one. It was also the only one he'd brought with him when he left his parents house in such a rush. He kept it in the backpack he'd knocked over on his way out of the room this morning... it must have fallen out and onto the floor.

"Yeah," Enjolras said, still a little confused, "I kept it. It was a cute drawing."

"Just a cute drawing?" Grantaire asked, raising an eyebrow at Enjolras. 

"Well, yeah, am I missing something? It's a drawing of a penguin and some bees..."

Grantaire collapsed backwards onto the bed, rubbing his eyes. "Enjolras, oh my  _god_ , I can't believe- open it."

"What?" Enjolras asked.

"It's a folded piece of paper, right? Unfold it."

Enjolras did so, and felt a lump in his throat when he saw what was inside. It was a letter, clearly addressed to him from Grantaire. A letter he had never known was there, but had clearly been carrying with him for so long. 

"Did you never read it?" Grantaire asked, sitting up again now.

"I never knew it was there..." he confessed, looking down at the words. 

"Well, read it now."

And he did.

_Enjolras,_

_This is super dumb. I know it is. I'm feeling like an idiot right now just writing this. And like an eight year old. An idiotic eight year old. I'm also a little drunk. Who writes letters any more? Probably Combeferre. This was Éponine's idea, because I never stop bothering her with the woes of my heart and she's so sick of hearing it I think she may smother me with a pillow sometime soon. This isn't what I'm supposed to be writing about and I'm going to run out of room soon fuck. Uh. Straight to the point I guess. I like you. Quite a lot. In fact I think I like you more than I've ever liked anyone in my life. You w/ your bees and your stupid hair and your really nice face. I've had a crush on you for longer than I'd like to admit and uh yeah this was just to tell you that. Apparently I'm a lovesick puppy and this is a 'necessary evil' according to Ép. Anyway I know this is weird as fuck. In all likelihood you don't like me back and thats fine so just. Tell me to fuck off and I'll never bother you again, I'll go live in a barrel like Diogenes or something. If by some absolute miracle you do like me back then... I don't know. That's cool too. You should let me take you on a date or something. Unless you don't like dates. This is awkward now and I'm running out of paper. idk how to end this please dont hate me lol - R_

Enjolras looked back up at Grantaire with happiness swelling in his heart. There was a grin on his face that seemed to only grow wider, and he didn't even know what to say.

"Uh... so, what did you-" Grantaire began. Enjolras, deciding it would be a fitting answer, cut him off by pressing his lips to his. He felt Grantaire jump and pause for a moment, before relaxing and beginning to kiss him back. They both fell slowly backwards to laying on the bed, Enjolras hovering over Grantaire as they kissed. Enjolras couldn't quite believe what was happening. He could feel the same ethereal, other-wordly feeling from when he kissed Jehan again, except this time it was amplified, so much louder and stronger. It was intoxicating. He knew this was right- this was who he was supposed to be with. 

The kiss continued for what seemed like forever and a split second at once. An eternity contained in brief moments until Grantaire stopped, pushing Enjolras lightly with his hand and sitting the two of them back up again.

"So I'm guessing..." he began

"Yes, you idiot," Enjolras replied, the same smile still stuck on his face, "I've had feelings for you for as long as I could remember. I just never thought you felt the same way."

"Are you kidding? I've been hopelessly in love with you since the moment I met you. You were this short ass kid with amazing hair who loved the environment and got a detention for caring about  _bees_ of all things... who wouldn't fall hard?"

"I thought you were straight, I mean, all those girls..." 

"Enjolras," Grantaire said, tone serious all of a sudden, "the only reason I went through so many blonde haired, blue eyed girls is because I was looking for a substitute for you."

Enjolras didn't know how to respond. It all seemed to make sense now. Before, he thought that all the girls looking the same just meant that Grantaire had a type. He'd always thought of them as just looking like Cosette. It had never connected in his head that Cosette looked like  _him._

He could hear Éponine's voice, suddenly. In the back of his head telling him something that seemed like it should have been obvious all along.   _"Have you noticed that this one doesn't look like you?"_

"The girl, that night when you kicked me out of your bed. She was the only one who didn't look like the rest." He made a statement in the hopes that it would be interpreted as a question. That he'd get the answers without having to ask for them directly. 

"I was upset because of you that day. I thought you were ashamed of me, or something. I took it as confirmation that you didn't like me that way, that you never would." He looked sad and ashamed himself when he said this, as if it was some deep confession. "It was you causing the pain I was trying to drown out. Why would I go looking for somebody who reminded me of you?"

He couldn't argue with that. It made sense, in a very basic way. 

"Éponine knew," Grantaire said after a few moments of silence, "about me liking you, I mean. I've been bothering her about it for... the past few years. Azelma knew as well, she's too old to not pick that stuff up. I don't know about Gavroche, but that kid seems to know things not even we do sometimes, so..." 

"Éponine told me not to be an idiot once. I think this is what she meant," Enjolras laughed. 

"I guess we've both been idiots. I thought you were dating Jehan for... a while."

"Really?" Enjolras asked. It wasn't that surprising, realistically, but it was still strange to hear. He'd almost forgotten about their very public kiss, what with everything that had happened in the aftermath. 

"Yeah, I really didn't like him for a bit. I was jealous. But then you moved in here and... never mentioned him, or brought him over, or anything. So I kinda figured that you most likely weren't dating. Or, if you were, that you're a terrible boyfriend."

"Thanks," he laughed, mocking offense, "no, we're not dating. We never were. Jehan's just... affectionate and loving. He had a crush on me though I'm... not sure if he still does. But he knew I liked you, and I didn't like him like that, so it stayed platonic."

"But you kissed him at the bar," Grantaire said. 

"Yeah. That was much more of an in-the-moment thing, and it lead to me getting kicked out of my house and disowned by my parents. A wild ride."

"That was why?"

"Yeah. I told them I was gay. They tried to take me to church to convert me back, but I left and started packing a bag. My dad told me if I walked out that door I would never come back. I did, and I haven't."

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm pretty happy you're living with me and not people like that," Grantaire said honestly. 

"I'm happy too. I didn't think I ever would be this happy again but... I am. I'm glad I'm here, with you. This is more important to me than family who wouldn't accept me for who I am."

They smiled at each other, and Grantaire leaned in for another kiss.

"You're going to have to apologise to all those girls, you know," Enjolras said.

"I'd expect nothing less," he replied.


	22. Twenty One

Enjolras woke up alone the next day. The empty space beside him was cold. Grantaire had been gone for some time. He couldn't help but feel a little sad. Despite his better nature telling him it was a stupid thing to be worried about, he kept thinking that maybe Grantaire had regretted the night before and ran away. He wasn't sure where Grantaire would even  _go-_ they both lived here, and he'd have to come back eventually for his stuff.

That didn't stop him fretting. 

He decided to do something productive to get his mind off of Grantaire's possible relocation to Switzerland. He got up, threw on the first clothes he saw, and began work on cleaning the house. 

He began in the kitchen, which was eternally messy due to Gavroche being adamant that he could make his own meals now. He was a short kid, and could barely reach the tap to get his own glass of water. This created a lot of mess when he inevitably dropped and spilled things everywhere. Enjolras was surprised he hadn't set the kitchen on fire at least once.

He wiped down the surfaces, putting away left out ingredients, binning rubbish, and moving dirty dishes to the sink. He had the radio on in the background, and it was relaxing to hum along as he worked. Nobody else was home, Ép being at work and the kids at school, and it was peaceful. He felt much more relaxed than he had yesterday- the events of that afternoon and evening had made him happy and content. Grantaire's absence was worrying, but he wasn't thinking about that right now. 

When the kitchen was clean, he migrated to the living room. This was another problem area, as the kids did their homework and spent most of their time in here. The blanket had been pulled off of the back of the sofa. That was the first thing Enjolras fixed, folding it back up and laying it gently over the backrest. He fixed the cushions, moving them back to where they were suppoesd to be as opposed to the haphazard scatter that had been created by him and Grantaire sleeping on top of them. 

There were toys littering the floor, which Enjolras moved back up to Gavroche's room. He neatened up the homework and pencils that had been left on the coffee table, too. Putting everything back in order was comforting. He knew that once everyone came home it'd be ruined again, but he didn't really mind. For now, it was nice. 

He'd finished the living room and was taking a break sitting on the sofa when he heard the front door open. He jumped up, and was relieved to see Grantaire walk into the house.

Holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Oh! You're awake," he said upon seeing Enjolras, a grin on his face. "I thought you were still asleep,"

"Yeah," Enjolras said, "I was but then I woke up, I thought you'd... run away, or something."

"Why would I run away?" Grantaire said, walking over to Enjolras and taking one of his hands in his own, "when I have everything I want here?"

Enjolras could feel himself melt at those words. It took a surprising amount of effort to stay standing, and his cheeks were heating up. 

"These are for you," Grantaire said, bringing the flowers between them. "I wanted to get you something nice and I thought, flowers are traditional... but then I thought maybe you wouldn't want flowers because they'd been cut from their roots and were dying plants, so I got a bouquet of fake flowers..."  Enjolras looked down at the flowers, and sure enough, they were made of paper. They were beautiful and realistic, and he wouldn't have been able to tell they were fake if he wasn't looking at them so closely. 

"Thank you," Enjolras said, taking them in his spare hand. He was incredibly flustered, and had no idea what he should say. Nobody had ever bought him flowers before, fake or not. He didn't quite know the etiquette for receiving them. 

He took them from Grantaire and took a few steps back, walking into the kitchen to find a glass to put them in. Grantaire followed.

"Did you clean the house?" he asked, looking around. 

"Oh, yeah," Enjolras replied, feeling foolish now his worries had been proven false, "I needed a distraction from the whole ' _Grantaire regrets everything and is currently running away to live in Switzerland'_ idea." 

"I didn't realise I'd acquired a housewife," Grantaire joked, "you're even wearing my clothes."

Enjolras looked down at himself. It was true. He was wearing Grantaire's shirt and pyjama pants. He hadn't even noticed.

-

Enjolras and Grantaire entered college with a deep sense of nervousness. They'd planned exactly what they were going to do, and now all they had to do was play normal until the time came. That would be the hard part- not running to Combeferre or Jehan and telling them everything before it was time. Now he had everything he'd wanted for so long, all he felt like doing was telling the world.

They waited until lunchtime. He had to suffer through a whole Law class, and then English Literature, which was a  _nightmare_. Grantaire seemed to get kicks out of nudging him under the table and smirking at him throughout the class. It took all of his might not to give everything away. 

English Literature ended, and it was time for the plan to begin. They all got up as a group, and began to walk to the dinner hall. 

"Hang on," Enjolras announced, a few moments later, "I just remembered I don't have a drink. I'm gonna go buy one from the shop, I'll meet you guys in there." He was met with a chorus of 'okay's, and turned in the opposite direction, towards the shop. His heart was beating fast in his chest, and he couldn't keep a grin off of his face. He couldn't quite believe this was actually happening. 

He grabbed a coke from the fridge in the shop, and gave it to the woman at the counter. She rang it up and asked for the money, at which point Enjolras realised a flaw in his plan. He only had his card on him. 

"There's a three pound minimum for card," she said, seven words he knew all too well. He picked up a couple of chocolate bars quickly, cursing himself for not remembering his money, and cursing Capitalism for inventing a society in which he was being charged to use his own money. 

He left the shop quickly, heading over to the dinner hall faster than he ever had in his life. Adrenaline was running through his body, and he was sure he probably looked strange to anybody looking at him from the outside. Walking slightly too fast, a shiteating grin on his face, holding a bottle of cola and three chocolate bars.

He reached the doors to the dinner hall and attempted some form of composure. He took a deep breath, tried to rid himself of such a revealing smile, and opened the doors. 

He spotted them off to one side, at their group's usual table. He made his way over there, trying to maintain a normal pace. He still couldn't quite believe everything that was going on, and what he was about to do. He was excited and fucking terrified all in one go. He reached the table, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

"Enjolras!" came a few cheers from the table. He could barely hear them, just background noise in his mind as he walked closer. Grantaire turned around. He smiled, leaned down, and kissed him. 

Everyone fell silent. They broke apart, and Enjolras didn't dare look away from Grantaire. They just stayed gazing into eachothers eyes for a few moments, until somebody started to laugh.

Enjolras looked towards the source of the noise to see Jehan, doubled over in hysterics, grinning at the confused and surprised faces of the rest of their friends. 

"What just happened?" asked Combeferre as Enjolras sat down beside Grantaire, placing the chocolate and drink on the table. 

"Yeah, I'm confused," Courfeyrac agreed. Enjolras was just as confused, and Jehan was laughing even harder.

"Me and Enjolras are together," Grantaire said definitively. Hearing him say that made Enjolras's chest tighten.

"What about Jehan?" Bossuet asked, and everyone looked towards the giggling boy sat on the far corner of the table. 

"Yeah, I thought you were dating Jehan, Enjolras," Bahorel chimed in. 

"I'm... no. I'm not dating Jehan," Enjolras started to laugh too, and Jehan's amusement grew, "did everyone think we were dating?" 

The others around the table nodded.

"You kissed him at the bar," Combeferre pointed out.

"None of you ever said anything," Enjolras said.

"We thought you didn't want to talk about it. We were being respectful."

"I did think it was a bit weird that you were sleeping in Grantaire's bed," Courfeyrac said. Enjolras's cheeks flushed thinking about what adulterous things Courfeyrac must have thought he'd been doing behind Jehan's back.

"You've been sleeping in his bed? The whole time? When did this start?"

"He's been sleeping in my bed since the day he moved in," Grantaire piped up. Enjolras was glad for the help. "We weren't a  _thing_  then, though. My floor's just super uncomfortable and the flat was small. We got together yesterday, actually." 

"That's not very far along for an announcement, is it?" Joly said.

"We've got a good feeling about this."

-

Grantaire drove him. He wouldn't have been able to make this trip on his own, and he was thankful for the support. He was terrified of what was going to happen. But he knew he had to do this.

"You don't have to, y'know," Grantaire told him. They were sitting in his car outside. He hadn't quite mustered the courage to leave it yet. 

"No, I do. If I don't I never will," he said.

Enjolras looked up at his parents' house, through the windscreen of his boyfriend's car, and thought of the multitude of possibilities lying beyond that front door. He knew what he wanted to happen, and he knew how unlikely an outcome it was.

"Let's go," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaving the car.

He hadn't set foot on this street since he'd left with Grantaire weeks ago. It felt so much longer. He walked towards the front door with determination, faking confidence until he could find some for real. 

He reached the front door quicker than he'd expected to. Grantaire caught up with him quickly, and they stood side-by-side facing the door. Grantaire took Enjolras by the hands.

"It's going to be fine, okay?" he said, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb, "even if they're still awful, no matter what they say to you, you'll be okay. You have a home with me, and Ép and the kids, and we'll be here for you whenever you need us to be. You don't need them if they don't appreciate and love you for who you are, Enjolras. Because who you are is perfect."

Enjolras smiled at Grantaire as thanks. 

"Ready?" Grantaire asked. Enjolras nodded. Grantaire knocked on the door, and they waited. 

It was Enjolras's father who opened the door. He looked Enjolras up and down, and began to shut the door. Grantaire put his foot in the way, stopping him from closing it any further.

"Your son wants to speak to you." 

"And what if I do not want to speak to him?"

"Then you were never fit to be a father."

Enjolras's dad hesitated. From the look on his face, Enjolras knew he didn't want to relent. But he did, pulling the door open hard and stepping back to allow the two into his home. 

" _Thank you,_ " Enjolras whispered. Grantaire squeezed his hand in response. 

They walked into the living room, where Enjolras's mother was sitting, drinking tea. 

"Oh, Enjolras!" she said, jumping up from the sofa and approaching him, "I've missed you so much, are you coming home? And who's this- Graham... Granville..?-"

"Grantaire," he replied stoically, "he's my boyfriend."

"Oh," she said, her tone dropping noticeably. She looked down, and saw their hands clasped together, "Well. That's nice, dear. I think you best be going now, though." 

Enjolras had to stop himself from getting angry, or upset. He knew that they wouldn't react nicely. He stopped himself, however. He didn't want them to know they were getting to him. 

"I just wanted you to know. I also came here to gather the rest of my things to take back to our house. Where I live. With Grantaire." 

His parents looked at eachother, the disgust evident on their faces behind a thin mask of politeness. Enjolras left the room, leading Grantaire upstairs and to his bedroom. As he walked through the halls, he took each picture frame containing images of him and Cosette as children. If his parents didn't want him for a son, then they wouldn't have him. It was that simple. 

It felt strange, standing outside his old bedroom. He opened the door slowly, and peered inside. The room was cold. He'd left the window cracked open, and the cool air had slowly made its way inside and chilled everything. It felt like the room itself had died, and was now nothing more than a cold corpse. 

Everything was just as he'd left it. He was fairly certain his parents hadn't stepped one foot in his room since he'd left. There were even still marks on the bed from where he'd laid the suitcase. It was eerie, seeing the remains of a life that felt years passed. The Enjolras who had lived here was not the same one who had returned. 

He grabbed an old gym bag left over from a health kick he'd had at age fifteen, and started gathering what he needed and wanted. He gathered his clothes first, those being the most important items. He'd only been able to bring a few pieces of clothing with him at first, and he was growing tired of doing laundry so often. Then it was the college things that he needed. Workbooks, stationary, and textbooks he needed so as not to have to share with Combeferre any more. 

After that, he grabbed things from his friends- drawings from Grantaire, knicknaks Courfeyrac had given him, interesting rocks from Combeferre, anything he could see that meant something to him. 

It didn't take long for his room to be filled solely with things he no longer cared about. There was so much in this room that felt irrelevant to him now. There was a strange feeling in his chest- he wondered if this was what growing up felt like. 

He walked over to the window he'd spent so many nights standing at, and looked back out and into Cosette's room one last time. She was in there, sitting at her desk with the lamp on, writing in a book. He took out his phone, stepped back a few paces, and took a photo. It was the one part of this room he wanted to remember. 

They left after that, Enjolras not saying so much as a word to his parents. Grantaire gave them one of his fingers and laughed on the way out. 

Cosette would call him later that night, and ask him why there was a ten year old boy throwing eggs at his parents' house. He would smile, say "I don't know," and remember that he did have a family- and that they were right there with him, in the little house they'd all found together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The month and a half I've spent writing this fic have been... intense, and emotional, and a lot of hard work. It wasn't supposed to be this long, but it is, and god I fucking love it. I hope you do too.


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